Dark Notes
by Authors Tune
Summary: AU – Callie and Arizona, as strangers, slowly weave a life together; but the journey could be darker than either of them imagined.
1. Death and Night and Blood (Prologue)

**Dark Notes**

_by Author's Tune_

* * *

**Title: ** Dark Notes

**Disclaimer: **Could only wish the characters belonged to me, but alas, they do not.

**Storyline: **AU – Callie and Arizona, as strangers, slowly weave a life together; but the journey could be darker than either of them imagined.

**Rating: **M – this fic will contain mature themes, concepts and scenes. This may include consensual sex scenes, swear words, violence, drug/alcohol use and misuse.

**Author's Note: **Each chapter title is the title of a song (of which the title, though not the song, will relate to the chapter). You're welcome to guess the song writer/band/performer (google only cheats yourself!) if you like, but I'll be posting a list at the end of this fic of each one and which version or cover I was referring to.

Oh, and this fic will be pretty long. I can't promise my updates will be super fast, but I'll try really hard to keep them regular.

Thanks to everyone for your ongoing reviews to my previous fics – it's so awesome to still be getting reviews and PMs well after a fic is finished. Hopefully you'll find this interesting too, but I know it won't be everyone's thing. I've struggled to get motivated again and have been working on this storyline for a while, but we'll see how it goes! It's hard to find new ideas sometimes. :-)

Anyway, here's the prologue and first chapter to get things started. Fairly short, but chapters will be longer after this. Thanks.

* * *

**Prologue****: Death and Night and Blood**

_**February 15**__**th**__**, 2015**_

_The wounded seagull_

_Compensates its broken wing_

_And ill formed leg_

_Yet it remains emaciated_

_Inferior_

_And survives on discarded remnants_

_For that, which no one else needs_

"Coffee Ma'am? Tea?"

"No, thank you." Her voice shakes in time with her hands and she curls her fingers into fists and tucks them under her arms. The plastic chair creaks loudly and scrapes on the floor when she crosses her feet underneath her.

"Water?"

She nods and he offers a small smile, kind despite the authority of his blue-buttoned shirt with the gold emblems. The Seattle Police had been nothing but gentle with her since they had collected her from the hospital.

There was still dried blood under her fingernails; faded crimson stains on her skin.

"Here you go," he murmurs, sliding the glass slowly across the table, leaving a water trail. He looks up when another officer walks in, nodding to her as they both sit opposite, folders on the table. "Are you alright to make your statement now?"

She looks up from her glass, two trembling hands finding their way to wrap around the cheap glaze. Her eyes drift up to the corner, a camera fixed on them; wires disappearing into the ceiling. "I guess."

"This is standard protocol, Ma'am; our forensic team has identified the suspect and there is a warrant out for his arrest. Currently you're the only witness that is able to give a statement, until your friend regains consciousness."

She closes her eyes and swallows. Licking her lips, she whispers, "My partner. She's my partner."

"Oh of course, my apologies. As soon as we're finished I will give you a lift back to the hospital."

"Thank you."

"Have they given you any more information about her prognosis?"

She shrugs, and opens her eyes. "They're not sure; she's not…well."

"Anytime you need to stop, just let us know."

"Sure."

The female officer clears her throat and sits forward, forearms over her folders. "You had closed up the café yesterday afternoon, yes? Can you describe what happened from there?"

She exhales heavily and nods, taking a sip of water before placing it back on the table. "We close early, every two weeks," she explains slowly, "we provide a meal to the homeless. We used to do it at the café, but over the last year it's really grown. There're almost a hundred people now, so we get the meals organised and then take them to the town hall."

"So there was nothing unusual about yesterday?"

"No, nothing at all. I was out front, wiping tables and two men tried to open the doors, but they were locked. We let them in, you know, they were hurt. Kind of limping and blood noses, they looked like they had been beat up. And I don't know what happened, it happened so quickly. There was a group of people outside and across the road, they were running towards us, yelling."

"Can you describe how many people? Gender? Nationality?"

She shrugs, burrowing her forehead into lines of deep crevasses. "I don't know, I'm not sure" she whispers, "sorry. There was a group, maybe five; I think they were all men. Maybe." She cups her mouth, hand wildly shaking.

"Take your time."

"The two that we let in, they grabbed us. One each and held us in front of them, protection I suppose."

"Can you describe those men?"

Nodding, she closed her eyes. "They were both tall, dark hair. They were quite a bit taller than me, over six foot. Easily. Tatts, they had a heap of tattoos, all down their arms. Full sleeves and they were in tee shirts and jeans. Clean though, well dressed."

"Were you aware they were drug dealers when you let them in?"

Snapping her eyes open, her mouth falls open; catching flies. "What?"

"They've been on our radar for some time. Dangerous men."

"I…I had no idea. We would never have…"

"Were they familiar to you? Had you seen them before?"

She shrugs, eye contact drifting up to the wall and scanning the skirting board. "Maybe, in the café before; I don't know, we get so many people through. But yeah, I guess, but not well you know. They weren't customers that I knew by name, the regulars I do. We do."

"And what happened next?"

"Ummm, I'm not sure. I was trying to untangle, get out of his grasp, his arm was around my neck and he was waving his other hand out. I thought it was a gun but maybe it was a knife, I really don't know. I was just focussed on getting away, getting out from between them and I could see…there was blood and I couldn't get to her…I was panicking. Yelling out and then there was a shot, it was so loud. I don't know where it came from, which person but the guy…the grip on me loosened and then he was on the floor, I had to step over him. I had to step over him."

"Can you tell me how many shots you heard?"

She squeezes her eyes shut, scene playing out in her mind. _One; Two; Three._ "Three I think, I think it was three."

They nod and share a glance with each other. "Forensics found three shells."

"Oh, okay. So three, yeah, three then."

"Have some water Ma'am, we'll give you a few minutes." A box of Kleenex slides across the table, white tissues standing upright. She takes one in between her index finger and thumb, an extra one tumbles loose and wafts to the table.

"I'm sorry." She doesn't realise that thick heavy tears are tracking down her cheeks; she can barely feel her body let alone notice the sensation of wetness on her face.

The female officer shakes her head and relaxes back in her chair, unfolding her arms. She smiles gently. "Not at all. I know it's difficult, we just need things to be as fresh as possible, if we wait too long, it all starts to fade."

"I know, I understand. It's just that it all happened so fast and I know I'm not being much help." She sniffs, swiftly drawing another tissue out of the box and pressing it to her eyes. She shakes her head. "I stepped over him and the other guy pushed me, out of the way I guess, he was trying to run and pull us, maybe towards the back of the shop. But I don't know what happened, I was being pulled and pushed. They were all around us, and I could smell cigarettes. I remember thinking that I couldn't breathe because of the smell of smoke. It was only a few seconds and then there was screaming and yelling. So much; fuck."

"Can you remember anything they said?"

Shaking her head strongly, she shrugs, holding her shoulders up towards her ears. "I don't know, I don't know. I can't remember or I didn't notice, I don't know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The police officers, Detectives, lapse into a polite silence as they quietly watch the trembling form in front of them.

"Run, I think. I remember someone yelling out run right next to my ear, and then there were no hands on me. They were really strong."

"It's really important and I need you to really think; was there anything else that they said? At any time? Names or phrases, something, anything that might help us with our investigations?"

She stills, wiping furiously at her eyes though the tears just form a thin glaze across her cheeks and down to her chin. Slowly, she shakes her head. Just slightly at first before she squeezes her eyes shut and more strongly emphasises. _No._ "There's nothing. I just want to get back."

A heavy sigh lingers in the air and she feels guilt stab at her stomach, nauseating her. She has nothing else to tell them; nothing useful anyway. She has nothing that needs to be said.

"Please."

"I'm going to give you my card and I want you to call at any time. Any time at all, if you remember something. Don't think about whether it's important or not, leave that to me to figure out."

She husks in reply, "Sure."

"Ma'am, if you're worried, we can arrange protection for you and your partner. You don't need to be afraid of these men; we can make sure you're safe."

She swallows the scoff and politely declines the offer, lump thick and heavy in her throat. "I'll call," she placates, "if I think of anything."

"We'll take you back."

She wraps her arms tightly around her abdomen as she stands and waits, following behind with her eyes fixated on the floor. The cardboard business card crumples in her hand as she tightens her grip, she won't need the contact details.

Neither of them will; if they happen to see the light of day again.


	2. Little Talks

**Title: ** Dark Notes

**Disclaimer: **Could only wish the characters belonged to me, but alas, they do not.

**Storyline: **AU – Callie and Arizona, as strangers, slowly weave a life together; but the journey could be darker than either of them imagined.

**Rating: **M – this fic will contain mature themes, concepts and scenes. This may include consensual sex scenes, swear words, violence, drug/alcohol use and misuse.

**Author's Note: **Each chapter title is the title of a song (of which the title, though not the song, will relate to the chapter). You're welcome to guess the song writer/band/performer (google only cheats yourself!) if you like, but I'll be posting a list at the end of this fic of each one and which version or cover I was referring to.

* * *

**Part One****: Little Talks**

_**January 30**__**th**__**, 2014**_

_I see_

_And I taste_

_As if you were real_

_And no where_

_Shall_

_My fingers be idle_

_When I ponder you_

_Whoever you_

_May be_

_A fucking door chime,_ is the first thought that crossed Callie's mind as she entered the recently opened café on the corner of James and Kent. It was the first time she'd been out of her apartment in two weeks and there was a door chime. She almost took a few swift steps backwards but a towering body behind her coughed his irritation.

She could almost feel the spray of sputum on her neck and physically shuddered, making a hasty run for a corner table, right at the back of the narrow café. Dumping two A5 notebooks on the table, she turned back towards the counter, eyes scanning a blackboard on the wall. Fluorescent yellows and pinks detailed a drinks menu, all the usual suspects, coffee denominations of all kinds and some weird combinations of freshly made organic vegetable juices.

Blue eyes peaked out from behind the coffee machine, blond hair slightly obscured by tall columns of disposable coffee containers. A quick assessment that her patron wasn't ready to order and she disappeared again, focussed on trying to clean the steam arm. "Give me a yell when you're ready to order."

Pouting, Callie wandered her gaze to the glass cabinet to the side of the counter; nothing but carbohydrate free salads, pumpkin slices and free range frittatas. Oh, and sweets to cater to every dietary intolerance that didn't exist a century ago. "Lucky I'm not allergic to air, huh," she joked, tugging at the satchel across her chest; the material twisted and stretched and a few more frayed edges tore and untangled. She was convinced it would last at least another year.

"Lucky." The blue eyes locked on hers again and the most tolerable grin absorbed her sarcasm. "Can't interest you in a gluten free spinach and goats' cheese muffin then?" She was deliberately goading, assessing the derelict looking woman with blood shot eyes that seemed intent on standing at her counter without ordering a thing.

"Just a coffee."

"Organic okay with you?"

"What the fuck is this place? Greenpeace?"

"Fuck no." They both laughed, though it quickly fell away and a middle aged woman returned a bottle of water to the fridge and stomped out the door. "Whoops."

"Prude. Well, given I'm desperate for coffee, I would like to order your largest _organic _latte please, one sugar."

"You sure you don't want Stevia? It's better for you."

Ready to release another round of explosive language, she found a bemused expression emanating from behind the cash register. Pale lips had been drawn into her mouth and two deep dimples creased both cheeks. "Sorry. The regulars are starting to get used to my humour. I'm Arizona by the way, and thanks for trying out my new venture."

"I'll hold judgement until the coffee."

"Giant latte, one sugar, got it. Take a seat and I'll bring it over; sorry, I didn't catch your name, you are?"

Turning, Callie ducked her head to slide the strap of her bag over her head, a long tumble of wavy dark hair falling down her back as an old rubber band pseudo hair tie caught and snapped. Glancing over her shoulder, she shrugged. "Not a regular yet."

"Fair enough," Arizona muttered, filling the portafilter with ground coffee and compressing it. She locked it into the group head and pressed a black button, pouring milk into a stainless steel jug. She liked the sound that the air made, whistling out and into the milk, aerating and heating it. It gave her a sense of accomplishment, as if she knew exactly what the outcome would be if she held it in place. It was predictable; satisfyingly predictable.

Sticking her tongue out, Arizona intently poured the milk into the wide mug, deciding on a simple leaf design rather than anything too ambitious. She was improving, but still, her more complicated latte art was a little sporadic in its success.

She had a photo in her apartment, of a perfect solar system that she had managed to master once, a few weeks before. It had a planet and orbit, a range of stars. She was yet to be able to repeat it though. The photo was on her fridge, held there with two small magnets, probably where she should have images of children or pets, foreign cities perhaps. But she had a cup of coffee.

Mildly ridiculous.

Resting a spoon on the side of the saucer, Arizona placed a sachet of raw sugar on top and served the drink, quietly sliding it on to the table. "Double shot latte, I make it in a mug, I hope that's okay."

Callie leant back, bag discarded to the floor and both notebooks on her lap. The oversized v-neck tee that she wore tugged down over her breasts, slightly see through from years of wear. "Bigger the better, thanks."

"Can I get you anything else?"

Shaking her head, Callie smoothed her hand over the small table. "Nice idea, on the tables. I haven't seen it anywhere else."

"Oh really? I saw it once, and liked it. It was easy to do really, people are always getting rid of old coffee machines so I took them off their hands and just had a piece of wood secured to the top. Pretty easy."

"Creative."

Arizona laughed. "I would like to say it was more unique and difficult, but it really wasn't. Kind of good for these quiet corners though."

"And you advertise stuff here?" Callie asked randomly.

"What do you mean?"

"The posters, art shows and gigs."

Arizona nodded slowly, casting her eyes up and along the walls, covered in various posters promoting local events or tours. She wiped her hands on the black apron she wore, folded and tied at her waist. "Yeah, that's the goal. Just a place for anyone to add to, there're some good bands. Local too."

Scoffing, Callie took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah, I see."

Pausing as if expecting her customer to continue, Arizona stepped away when the simple conversation was abruptly ended. Callie disengaged as if almost disinterested, twirling a pencil in her fingers and simultaneously sipping her coffee.

At least in this line of work, Arizona figured, she didn't have to work with people's craziness; she didn't have to manage it.

She just had to serve it.

* * *

A quick scan around the sedate atmosphere, and Arizona slunk back against the dishwasher and drew in a slow breath. She had almost survived her second week in the business and every so gradually, the numbers were crawling in. Morning was the most hectic, which was exactly why she had chosen the space that she did. The café was right on an intersection, and there were two major bus routes with stops almost outside of her door. One headed into the city centre and the other to a cultural precinct, full of restaurants and galleries. So she caught the mass of bleary eyed commuters, each seeking a caffeine hit to get their day started.

Later in the day she seemed to attract a more casual crowd, single patrons that settled in to one of her comfy chairs or single recliners, a novel in their hand or laptop in front of them. The kind of people that sat around for hours and ordered consecutive coffees before losing their resolve and indulging in something sweet.

Someone like the dark haired woman that had insulted her food options before slouching barely moving over a notebook, pen poised and occasionally scribbling. She was on to her second coffee and had even cracked a small smile as she had ordered it, though it had been fleeting.

Sighing, Arizona shook her head and focussed on the few pages of paper in her hand.

She couldn't spend all day thinking about every attractive woman that ordered from her. In fact, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind before she opened her doors; it was a fairly pleasant surprise, the number of incredibly hot women that would unabashedly flirt with her. Not that this customer had, she seemed positively disinterested in fact; oblivious probably, to the effortless hotness that emanated from her. Despite the one size too big jeans and not quite matching flip flops that would be more at place on a beach than a Seattle Café. Ironically, she was exactly the kind of patronage Arizona had been aiming for, the unique, non conformist, arty type.

Anything but the arrogant, elitist _fucks_ she had been working for years with, catering to their every whim for the greater goal. God, she had put up with a lot.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Arizona scanned the paperwork; it was the final contract with her coffee supplier. She could still hardly believe that it was her name on the lines, _Arizona Robbins, Proprietor_.

How the hell did that happen?

She still felt the swell of anxiety in her gut when she thought about opening her doors ten days before, and she wasn't sure she had ever been so nervous. For years, she had spoken in front of hundreds of people, done media work and hired and fired like she was breathing air. And not once had she felt nauseously ill.

A year; she could sign a year long commitment to order fair trade, organic, Guatemalan coffee beans from Atlas Coffee.

It really wasn't that long.

Scribbling her signature messily along the bottom line, she tossed it across to land on top of the microwave and scanned the room again. All was still calm.

Sliding the glass display cabinet door open, she used a pair of silver tongs to place a rectangular piece of slice on a plate. Swirling a spread of chocolate sauce over the remainder of the plate, she added two cut strawberries and wiped her hands. She cocked her head and smiled, if only _she_ could see her now.

Before she could give it a second thought, Arizona palmed the plate and slipped out from behind the counter, approaching the woman whom she was attempting not to fantasise about taking into the restroom and devouring. She cleared her throat at the image. "On the house," she said, raising her eyebrows briefly, "because everyone needs to try my gluten free, dairy free and sugar free brownie."

Curling her two index fingers back into her hands, Callie glanced up, mind somewhere between the beat she had been making on the table and the blue eyes that bore into her cloudy bloodshot ones. "Only if it's organic."

Arizona laughed and shrugged.

"Does it really taste good?"

"Of course, would I serve it if it didn't?"

Callie looked perplexed. "I wouldn't have a clue, possibly."

"Well, I'm keen to stay in business and not run people out of here, so I try to have options that actually taste awesome."

"You seem to be getting numbers through the door."

"Yeah," Arizona agreed, glancing at the couple of people remaining before she closed the doors for the day, "it's doing okay considering I only just opened."

"You know," Callie said, taking the proffered plate finally, "it's my birthday today, so thank you."

Arizona's mouth fell open before she shook her head. "Bull shit."

"No, seriously," Callie insisted, "it is. Sad right, that this is probably the extent of any celebrations I will have?"

"Well then, you really deserved that. It's good, honestly." Arizona indicated to the plate, cocking her head as if waiting for the first bite.

Callie indulged, taking a piece with her fork and sweeping it through the chocolate sauce. She chewed quickly, licking her lips. "Hum hmm, definitely birthday material. Thanks, Arizona, but I should pay you for it."

"Oh no, it's on me. All birthday girls deserve chocolate cake."

Callie nodded slowly, relieved that her offer wasn't accepted. She had been counting coins in the bottom of her bag just to afford her coffees. Not quite picking lint off pennies, but not far off. "That probably means I'll end up a regular then, given I live up the road. So, I guess you can call me Callie."

Arizona chuckled lightly and earned a tired look in return. "I can call you that or that's your name?" She perceptively noticed a tinge of pink on Callie's cheeks.

"Ohh, it's my name."

"I'm just teasing."

"You seem to have a habit of doing that, am I an easy target?"

Arizona stepped back, smiling. "Sorry, character flaw. Enjoy your chocolate goodness and I hope your birthday improves."

Expression falling, Callie glanced back to her notebook. "Thanks," she murmured, taking another large bite of brownie and seeming to shrink away from Arizona. Her shoulders curved more and she slumped, tucking her chin down towards her chest.

Ten minutes later, when Arizona looked over from where she had just finished serving a customer, Callie was gone.

* * *

Out the back of the café, Arizona had divided the kitchen to create a small space; a single bed, a desk and computer and a few shelves of books, magazines and a music dock. Her timeout space given she was spending most of her waking hours working for the moment. She figured it was design brilliance, a little lockable escape when she had enough competent staff to trust in running the café front. But close enough that she could easily reappear and fix whatever crises they had failed to manage; people were inherently incompetent. Always.

It was, a home away from home; a little something to keep her sane.

And at that moment, sun setting out the small window, she needed a little something. And it came in the way of a wide glass filled with crimson liquid. It was the most delicious Merlot in existence; one that smoothly covered her tongue and slid warmly down her throat. She exhaled, kicking her sensible shoes off and stretching her sock covered feet out along the mattress. She couldn't quite remember wearing flats for so many days in a row, but her toes were certainly grateful. Wearing heels like she was used to would be suicide standing all day, rushing between the register, tables and kitchen.

Rolling her shoulders and hips, she leant back against the pillow, where it was positioned to stretch lengthwise along the wall and took another few hasty mouthfuls of wine.

She closed her eyes and exhaled.

Repeatedly.

Snaking one hand down her sternum, she didn't bother stopping at the metal clasp of her black trousers. Her fingers disappeared beneath the waistband and into her underwear, pants tight against her wrist.

Her middle finger pooled a small gathering of fluid and she spread it along the length of herself.

Within minutes, her breathing was heavy and mouth ajar, eyes lolling at will as she simply worked her way to a rapid climax. Complete with wine glass still gripped in her spare hand and primal grunts, she finished with an ineloquent gasped _fuck_.

_Yes_, she figured, the café really was great for masturbation material and Callie, well Callie was the best yet.

* * *

**TBC…**


	3. The First Song

**Title: ** Dark Notes

**Disclaimer: **Could only wish the characters belonged to me, but alas, they do not.

**Storyline: **AU – Callie and Arizona, as strangers, slowly weave a life together; but the journey could be darker than either of them imagined.

**Rating: **M – this fic will contain mature themes, concepts and scenes. This may include consensual sex scenes, swear words, violence, drug/alcohol use and misuse.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for your reviews and messages, as well the alerts! I'm glad the start of the fic looks a little interesting to you. You're all great, thank you! Hope everyone is having a good week. :-)

* * *

**Part 2:**** The First Song**

_**February 5**__**th**__** 2014**_

_Hey_

_Fire starter_

_Be careful _

_Those flames will burn_

_Hard_

_On my skin_

_And yours_

"For _faaaaarks_ sake," Callie declared, precariously balancing a guitar on one leg, stretched out over the edge of the couch, thigh high over a bundled up throw rug and a hoodie, half on the floor. Her foot reached the coffee table, or what was once the coffee table, now covered with a few stained mugs, piles of unpaid bills and a range of clothing items that desperately needed laundering. Her hand disappeared beneath the sofa cushions, screwing her face up as she discarded furry food items, countless pennies and what may have been the charger for the phone she lost the Christmas before last.

But still, no lighter.

Perched in the middle of her small studio apartment, Callie suspected she had at least twenty small plastic lighters spread throughout her home.

At least.

She had been in the apartment for years, renting it off an old family friend that had disappeared to Florida on retirement, barely heard from again. Not that Callie found that particularly unbelievable, she had done it herself for the most part. Sort of. Some might challenge that, and say that she actually drove people away, too wrapped up in her own world of music, and the unfortunate lifestyle that accompanied it. Particularly since she had been in the business since she was seventeen.

Seemed like she had the world at her feet at that time; promises of wealth and fame that fell flat the moment she discovered the evening gig was best celebrated with a few drinks, some cones and whatever else was going around. She had never been picky back then.

And now she couldn't even find a fucking lighter.

Standing, Callie placed her guitar back in the slim area of space she had been occupying and stepped over the mess on the floor to approach the kitchen. Although she tended to use the term loosely, a mini fridge and a microwave probably didn't really constitute a kitchen in the traditional sense. She had had a convention oven for a while, but it broke, so she threw it out the window, one broken part at a time. The most annoying thing was when she cut her foot on a metal lever from it, when she was taking a pile of empty beer bottles to the recycling area.

She wasn't one for possessions, unless it came to her musical instruments and recording equipment. She didn't have space for a bed in the apartment; where it was designed to fit was filled with a long wide desk that held her keyboard, microphones, laptop, amplifier and the masses of cords that connected it all together. And then there were her series of guitars – bass, a couple of acoustic and a single electric that was worth more than the rest combined.

Occasionally she wished she was more conventional, but then she started writing and recording and reappeared three days later with no idea of what day or hour it was.

That was her zone; she craved that zone.

Oh, and she frequently remembered that people shit her; just a minor issue with being an engaged, participative member of society.

Rummaging through multiple pairs of jeans, hanging over a guitar stand, she eventually felt the familiar sensation of the smooth plastic device against the pads of her fingers. She gripped it in the palm of her hand and gave an awkward grin; no wonder she lived alone.

Slumping back on the sofa, Callie skilfully drew some tobacco out and rolled it into a thin paper, placing the filter in before running her tongue along the edge and smoothing it closed. She flicked the lighter a few times before a flame appeared and she inhaled with a low, long moan of pleasure; one of her many guilty pleasures.

Cigarette between her fingers, she relaxed back again, guitar across her lap and multitasking fingers pressed to the strings as she strummed quietly. She spontaneously created melodies, beautifully simplistic and haunting but as quickly as she started, she stopped. Inhaling to fill her lungs with nicotine; she certainly was focussed these days.

* * *

Swaggering slowly into Arizona's café, Callie removed her heavily tinted sunglasses and placed them atop her head. The arms pushed through her hair, tied loosely at the back of her neck. "Hey," she mumbled, finding Arizona behind the register, a ballpoint pen and a fork poking through her hair. "Ahhh," Callie said, glancing around at the clear room, "have you closed?"

"About to, but you're okay, as long as you're happy for me to kind of work around you. What can I get you?"

"Just keen on a coffee, if that's okay. I don't mind if you're closing, it's just I might kill someone if they try and talk to me, I've run out of instant at home."

Arizona swallowed heavily. "Instant? You really drink instant?"

Feeling a swell of judgement, Callie shrugged. "I make do."

"Here, I'll fix that. Ummm, you might need to remind me, latte right? Any sugar?" Arizona remembered all too well Callie's order, a supersized latte with one sugar. She paused behind the coffee machine, half grin on her face as she contemplated the visualisation she had indulged in the afternoon before.

"Just one, thanks. Amusing?"

Snapping her concentration back, Arizona neutralised her expression. "Sorry, just, my mind wanders. Frequently actually, wish I could stop it. You hungry at all? I've got plenty."

Callie shook her head, leaning her hip against the counter and crossing her arms. Arizona's café was an exceptional find as too, was Arizona although it was a pity she had sworn off blondes. "Nah, I'm good. Just the coffee."

"Why don't you sit down Callie, I'll just set up around you."

"Set up around me?" Callie asked, uncrossing her arms and shaking her head. "Just put in a to-go cup and I'll bail, really, if you're closed and have stuff to do, you're closed."

Looking mildly stressed suddenly, Arizona turned the steam wand and cast a sideways glance to Callie. "I'm doing this dinner for a group of people tonight, a local charity asked me if I would help out with feeding these people who are homeless."

"Whoa, really?"

"Yeah, I don't mind, at all, it's just the first time. They said there're a few restaurants and cafes around that do it, so it works out that they get three dinners a week and then the vans for breakfast and stuff."

"That's pretty amazing, how many people? Have you got everything sorted?"

Arizona laughed, and Callie's eyes fell to her lips; Arizona had the kind of smile that made anyone near her want to smile as well. Even if they didn't want to, like Callie. Callie didn't smile for hot blondes any more, except for this one suddenly. "She said maybe twenty or twenty five, since it's a new night and they haven't got the word out yet. And I've kind of got stuff sorted, meals really. The salads are done and I've got a pasta sauce on; I just need to keep an eye on the time, make sure I get the chicken in on time and start the pasta and vegetables. And the tables, I just have to rearrange them, and put out cutlery, napkins, that kind of thing."

"Well, given that you gave me that really oddly tasting birthday brownie last week, I could help out; repay you and all." Apparently smiles weren't the only thing this particular blond elicited in her.

"Repay me for a four dollar brownie with a few hours of work?"

Callie shrugged. "And maybe the coffee?" she hinted, winking. "Seems fair."

"It really doesn't, but maybe coffee could be on the house for you here, whenever you come in? Would that work for you?"

Shaking her head, Callie slipped her bag over her head and deposited it on the floor. "It definitely would, but not needed. It's for charity right, I do charity so it's all good. And hey, I even do some bar work up the road sometimes, so I'm not too shabby behind a counter and serving."

"Are you sure?" Arizona asked, handing Callie a mug, not bothering with a saucer and having already mixed in her sugar. "Because it's going to be a few hours."

"I got nowhere to be, just let me scull this and there'll be no chance of me telling you to fuck off when you give me a simple instruction."

"I can probably give as good as I get," Arizona admitted, and she looked slightly more relaxed. Although she had everything she needed and had a schedule planned, the idea of being solely responsible for getting the meals not only out on time, but tasting better than average, had been causing her some anxiety. Enough that she had popped a Xanax under her tongue an hour earlier, though she had barely felt the effects. Having Callie present, another set of hands, was exactly what she needed. "So you live nearby, huh?" Arizona asked, lifting up a tray of cutlery and walking out from behind the counter.

"Yeah, just up the road. Five minutes, if that."

"Nice," Arizona said, nodding, "I'm not far either. Maybe a ten or fifteen minute walk ah, that way," she explained, pointing out the front of the shop and in the opposite direction to where Callie had walked from home. "I like it around here," she continued softly, "it's busy enough to keep me sane but not the city centre. I like being able to get my car out of the basement without risking my life."

"Yeah, it's alright," Callie responded, taking a few full gulps before resting her cup on the counter and helping Arizona reposition some tables. "You want to make one long table?" she asked, to which Arizona nodded, hands under one edge and waiting for patiently for Callie to grip the other side.

"If we line up say, five of these centre ones, that should be enough. Or do you think it would be better to not join 'em?"

"Nah, one long one. I can break up any fisticuffs."

Arizona smirked and laughed, if the idea of aggressive homeless even remotely bothered her, it didn't show. "I think we'll be right."

"Hey, I've walked these streets at night, there's some rough shit out there. A lot of drugged up dicks causing trouble, kids drinking themselves stupid and no where to go home to anyway. All the stuff the government doesn't want to know about." Callie dragged another table closer, edging it to press closely against the adjacent one. Arizona stilled momentarily, and her head just slightly leant to the left; to anyone who got to know her, it was such a classic pondering pose.

Deep in thought and remembering, no matter how brief the moment.

"Yeah," Arizona murmured, "guess you've lived here a while then?"

Shrugging, Callie paused, pushing the last table into place. "A while. You wanna get started in the kitchen and I'll get this set up? Just napkins from over there?"

"Ummm yeah, is that alright?"

Laughing, Callie reached for her coffee and downed the remainder quickly. "I won't take off with your cash register, it's alright."

"Oh I didn't, I really didn't mean that…that didn't even cross my mind," Arizona said, hurrying to correct when she perceived that she had insulted Callie. Only a wide grin met her gaze when she looked up and Arizona breathed a sigh of relief. She was captivated momentarily, by the intensity of Callie's smile. It made her cheekbones swell and her eyes glaze, even her tongue seemed to be excitable, poking out from where they pressed to the inside of her front teeth. Arizona had perhaps incorrectly, assumed her to be some tortured depressive that spent most of her time buried in a notebook.

Not to mention a generally grumpy woman with a distinct hatred of food catering to dietary restrictions or health nuts. Although, understandably, maybe the health nuts did actually shit her.

Arizona had been one of those in the past, strictly following a vegan diet, until her body protested and her blood counts started to resemble an oncology patient. And for a vegan, she really really hated broccoli. Humans shouldn't eat trees.

"Kitchen, Arizona," Callie prompted, and seemed poised to give Arizona a soft push between the shoulder blades before dropping her hand back to sweep over the back of a chair. She took a few steps back and averted her eyes, still smiling though as she took a deep breath. "I'll finish up out here and come help you."

"Thanks," Arizona responded and nodded enthusiastically. "Really, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything. You've given me coffee and I've moved a table or two. Seriously underperforming right now."

Arizona laughed and slipped around the counter, a sly glance back as she headed back into the kitchen.

* * *

With a chequered tea towel over her shoulder, Arizona bantered with the last two remaining guests. She shrugged off their slightly inappropriate sexual comments with good humour, assuring them that although she really appreciated their offer of a three-way, she would have to politely decline. It was important to have clear boundaries, she insisted, and she really wanted to continue providing them with a meal every two weeks.

Callie laughed from the front of the café, holding the door open and gesturing for them to head out. "Come on Bill," she managed to lightly articulate between chuckles, "drag your mate out and head off."

"I'd be happy with a brunette too," he muttered, turning his attention to Callie and swaggering out, the hearty meal having absorbed some of the alcohol he had consumed throughout the day. They were hardly dangerous, and neither Callie nor Arizona felt even remotely threatened, both amused more than anything. The two homeless workers on shift that night had called in a couple of times, dropping off a couple of extra patrons as they completed their usual safety check around the city squats and parks. They had repeatedly assured Callie and Arizona that they had their cell phones attached to them and to call with any issues at all.

Arizona had rolled her eyes and Callie had shooed them away.

"Sorry gentleman," Callie responded, "there were some lovely ladies at dinner, perhaps you can sit next to one of them next time."

"Oh, those bitches? _Fucking drunks, _I'd catch an itch from their pussies."

Callie stifled a laugh, chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to ignore Arizona laughing into her hand behind the front counter. "Careful, you'll hurt my ears with that kind of language," Callie teased and shook their hands as they stilled in front of her.

"Sorry Ma'am," they playfully appeased, disappearing out the door with a wave behind them. They were quickly absorbed by the darkness on the street as Callie closed the front door and flicked a safety lock, Arizona would key lock it before she left.

"Can't believe you turned down their offer," she murmured, grinning as she made her way back, picking up the odd stray napkin from the floor on her way. The tables were wiped down and dishes mostly done, the cleaner would do the floors in the morning before opening.

Arizona shook her head. "They were good value, nice bunch. They were entertaining at the very least."

"Yeah, I was kind of surprised, they were no problems hey? Although did you hear the young guy in the corner have a go at the older guy next to him? It was over something to do with the salt; drug fucked I suppose, short fuses."

Nodding, Arizona screwed up her nose. "It's hard, you can tell some are completely off their face and others are obviously unwell, like, mental health wise. That woman along the back, with the red lipstick and bright pink cheeks, she just talked to herself the whole time. Just a constant conversation."

"Voices in her head, I suppose."

"Sad, really."

"Yeah, sad, but it is what it is. She didn't seem so unhappy with the world."

Arizona offered her fleeting considered pose; Callie was right, the woman looked far happier than she felt. What did that say about her? She shrugged the thought away as quickly as it infiltrated her consciousness. "Wine, I need a drink and to sit, somewhere; anywhere. Come on."

"You have wine here?" Callie asked, eyebrows raised as Arizona indicated for her to follow.

"God yes, soooo yes. You don't seem like the abstinent type?" Arizona half stated and half questioned, loosely aware that it was probably an inappropriate comment but letting it drift out anyway.

"No, no, no. Definitely no."

"Good, then grab those two glasses and we'll sit out back, I need some air."

"Clean air? In Seattle?"

"Oh try New York. And London, Jesus, it's like breathing in exhaust fumes constantly. Seattle is…clean, trust me," Arizona said loudly back to Callie when she disappeared into her office, reappearing a few seconds later with an unopened bottle of red and her leather handbag, a little more upmarket than Callie's desecrate satchel. "You got glasses? Mind you, I'd be happy with a straw."

"A straw, nah, too classy for me. Just swig out of the bottle," Callie murmured, easing herself down onto the back step next to Arizona. She slumped against the door frame. "You must be exhausted, you've been on your feet all day."

"Mmmm," Arizona confirmed, undoing the screw top and tossing it back over her shoulder. She poured two glasses to the rim as Callie held them securely. "Is it bad if I admit to having done that before?"

Callie laughed, eyes closing as she tilted her head back. "Nope, I could admit to much worse." Drinking quickly, Callie rested the glass between her feet and fumbled in her bag, drawing out a packet of tobacco, she held it up to Arizona with a questioning glance. "You mind?"

Arizona shook her head. "But here," she said, reaching into her own bag and lifting her hand out with a packet of Parliaments, "save the hassle."

"You smoke?" Callie questioned, accepting the offer and flicking the packet open. She tugged one from the almost full pack and sat it loosely between her lips. Arizona nodded slowly; her haphazard approach to indulging her stress management strategy wasn't easily identified or articulated. An eclectic mix of prescription and non prescription, tools, she might say. Callie held another cigarette out to Arizona, who took it and mimicked Callie's action.

"There're worse dirty habits," Arizona admitted nonchalantly.

"Certainly is," Callie agreed, flicking Arizona's metal lighter. A full flame appeared immediately and she held it out for Arizona to tip her mouth to and inhale.

"Thanks."

"I probably engage in a few worse ones too, just so you know."

Arizona grinned, running her fingertips down the length of Callie's thigh. She felt the slightest shudder in response. "Me too," she conceded, "just so you know."

Shifting her body, Callie turned to rest her back against the open door frame, kicking her feet along the second step, her calves stretching out over Arizona's shins. She rolled her ankles a couple of times, jean clad legs rubbing loosely over Arizona's high boots. She inhaled deeply, the slightly smooth yet processed smoke feeling different to her usual 'roll your own' cigarettes. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as a range of thoughts rushed through her mind. It was possible, that she had just flirted with the hot café owner.

Entirely possible; highly, even.

"So," Arizona drawled, and Callie focussed her eyes, bemused by Arizona's discomfort with the silence they had just fallen into, "we need to figure out a repayment, for tonight. Coffee or food, or I'm not sure what else, I could pay you, a little. Some at least."

"I thought we had that sorted, I was volunteering. Doing my charity thing, earning points with the universe or something."

"Karma?"

Callie contemplated the thought, but it was a concept that she couldn't even pretend to believe in. As if doing good, equalled a positive return; it was a complete crock. "Nah, just trying to make you feel okay about me helping."

"Come for coffee whenever you like then, I insist."

"And, next fortnight, we do it all again?"

Arizona's head snapped up, cigarette slowly burning between two fingers, where she held her glass to her lips. She sipped at the wine. "You'd do that?"

Callie shrugged and smirked again. "If you can tolerate me."

"As if that's hard," Arizona replied, a little too quickly and she dropped her eyes again to the gravel car park that was only dimly lit by a florescent tube light over the back wall.

Callie lifted her foot and crossed her ankles, blowing rings of smoke that gradually got bigger and faded in front of Arizona. _Why was it always blondes?_

* * *

_**TBC…**_


	4. Up Against The Wall

**AN:** I'm so sorry for how slow I've been – it's been ages between updates. I hope some of you still remember what this storyline is! Thanks for your patience and gentle pushes. :-) Crazy times in my world. And thank you to all who have been reviewing and reading, you're awesome.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Up Against The Wall**

_**21**__**st**__** February 2014**_

_And we're all scarred_

_Tattooed_

_By harm_

_And that_

_Which has been done_

_So don't apologise_

_Darlin'_

_You're doing_

_All_

_You can_

Pausing, with her back to the queue at the café counter, Arizona took a slow deep breath. Eyes closed and fingers tucked into two tight fists, she tapped her ear to each shoulder and cracked her neck before forcing a smile and turning. "How was everything today?" she asked politely, scanning her mind to place which table the young couple had been at. She remembered they were in the corner, thankfully, as he had ran his foot up and down the woman's calf. Tapping the touch screen in front of her, she selected the correct table and asked, "Two coffees, the lasagne, a pumpkin risotto and side of sweet potato fries?"

"That's it, and thanks, everything was really good."

Arizona smiled, though a voice in her head sarcastically ranted, _of course it was, what did you expect, a fucking piece of cold toast?_ "Excellent, and paying together or separately today?"

"Together is fine," he murmured, smiling as he elbowed the slightly blushing girl aside as he handed over his credit card. Processing his card, Arizona indicated to one of her new waitresses and pointed to the people scanning for a vacant table. She had employed four staff a week ago and already she had sent one of them away. She didn't feel she should have to continually remind someone that a vacated table needs to be cleared and wiped and that cutlery dropped on the floor shouldn't be swiped on an apron and put back on the table in full view of the customers. There was no accounting for stupidity. "Just enter your pin," she stated, eyes darting up to two men that had just slipped through the door. She nodded at them and drew in another calming breath as they sat quickly down just inside the front door, not bothered by the two coffee stained mugs that were yet to be cleared.

'Thanks," the customer in front of her stated, taking his card and receipt back and leading the girl out the door. They had to weave around chairs, extras added for the lunch time rush. The café had certainly taken off, so much so that Arizona was starting to feel the pressure. She was tired mainly, long hours and nights out with minimal sleep were doing little for her mental health. The odd Xanax and Restoril were helping her get a few hours each night though.

Tipping her head to the side, she ran an open palm around one of the girls' back, slightly exposed lumber under her fingertips. "Can you sort these customers?" she asked, giving a wink to the men in front of her, wallets open and waiting. "I'm just ducking to the restroom."

Nodding, the baby-faced redhead, arched her back and grinned at Arizona, backside grazing her hip. "Sure," she answered and Arizona chewed on her bottom lip as she walked away, pondering briefly whether her name was Kirsty or Kristy.

It was one of the two, she was sure; she really had to get a little better with details. Speaking of, Callie had been yet to call in that day which she had come to do. Usually it was early afternoon when she strolled in, hair knotted and askew and eyes glazed over. Mostly, some mornings, if she made it in, she seemed clearer and more energetic. Positive even. They had spent some time together, Callie having helped out with the second charity dinner and even helped clear a few tables when Arizona had fired her waitress in full view of the thankfully, chilled out afternoon customers.

Entering the bathroom, Arizona slumped down on the closed toilet lid and gave an exasperated sigh. It had been more than a week since her last artificial stimulant, minus caffeine of course. Reaching into her back pocket, she withdrew a small silver business card case and settled it on her lap. She unfolded one of four aluminium foil packages. As quickly as she cast her eyes over the thin line, it was grazed under her nose and halved, a small metal cylinder tapped to her left nostril.

Neatly returning the supplies to her pocket, she rested back for a few minutes, pupils gradually starting to dilate. Rolling her shoulders, she stood and tipped her chin to the mirror, smoothing the skin over her jaw line and tucking wispy curls behind her ears. Rising up to her tiptoes, she bounced a few times before blowing a long exhalation of warm air. It clouded the mirror and blurred her expression, eliciting a small smile.

Returning to the café floor a minute later and she slipped straight back into her role, directing the girls and single handedly making coffee, steaming milk and retrieving customer change from the cash register. She felt energised and alive, words tumbling from her mouth with a mix of humour and casual conversation. Various customers bantered with her before the lunch rush dissipated.

Arizona grinned. "You girls can go for your break if you like," she prompted, only mildly aware that in their early twenties, _girls_, was probably a derogatory term. She didn't really care, she could run the place on her own if she had to. Mostly.

"Thanks," they murmured back in unison, and Arizona chuckled lightly. She reached a hand out to run down Kirsty's arm.

"Go, have a half an hour, you've been on your feet for hours. And take some food with you, whatever you like."

"Oh, I would really really love that raspberry muffin."

_Really really? _Arizona waved her hands at the cabinet. "Whatever you like."

With the area to herself, Arizona wiped over the benches and dragged a cloth over the glass display. She arranged the napkins into a neat pile and the postcard local events advertisements into perfect lines. Not before she restocked the disposable coffee cups.

She was looking for her next task when a light cough resonated from across the counter and she couldn't help but smile. "Callie," she acknowledged, head tilting to the side. "I was starting to think you weren't coming in today, how are you?"

Nodding, Callie readjusted the bag strap across her sternum. "Yeah, I have to head into town, just thought I'd call in. You good?"

"Yeah, yep. Good," Arizona answered, feeling Callie's stare a little more intensely than usual. She averted her gaze. "I'll get you a coffee."

"Wait," Callie said, forehead burrowing and she took a napkin from the top of the pile Arizona had just straightened. "You're bleeding," she murmured, folding it in half and holding it under Arizona's nose, her open palm to Arizona's cheek, keeping her still. "You get blood noses?"

Arizona stepped quickly back, taking the white paper napkin hurriedly from Callie. It had two small smudges of blood. "Sorry," she offered, pressing it to her nose.

Shrugging, Callie watched carefully. "It's alright, I'm good with a bit of blood."

"Classy," Arizona joked.

Callie shook her head, pushing her hands into the pockets of her faded blue jeans, fraying tears over her thighs. "You feeling alright, Arizona?"

"Yeah absolutely, it's nothing. I get them sometimes, it's never much."

Nodding, Callie chewed at the inside of her cheeks; it was none of her business really. "Mind if I make my own coffee?"

Arizona laughed. "Not at all, but I've got it. You into town for anything important?"

Rolling her eyes, Callie shrugged. "Not at all, just some strings I ordered ages ago have arrived. I was meant to pick them up last week, and now they're threatening to sell them on; they're kind of specialist ones."

"Been writing anything new?"

"Nuh. I wish, I've got the motivation of a gnat."

"Maybe the new strings will help."

Callie engaged another long shrug. "I doubt it, but they can't make me any worse. Hey, you're still bleeding; maybe you should stop for a minute." She hesitated. "Funny how it's only one side."

Arizona's eyes quickly dropped and wiped at her nose again, a smudge of dark red smudging; she folded the square smaller. "Annoying," she offered, embarrassed. A small anxious feeling quelled in her gut and she knew Callie was assessing her correctly. She seldom disclosed the little bits and pieces of her life, the vices that got her through the long days she spent alone. If people knew, then her invincible, infallible façade was suddenly transparent.

And God, how she hated to be transparent.

"So umm, I'll be in tomorrow morning, you're around right?" She sensed Arizona discomfort quickly, reading her with pinpoint accuracy.

"Always," Arizona said, weakly smiling.

"Well, if it's not too chaotic, maybe you can join me for coffee. I figure with the numbers growing, we might need a bit of a plan for the next homeless meal thing."

"You're still in, then?"

"Yeah, definitely. Is it weird how much I love that shit?"

Arizona chuckled, shaking hands topping Callie's cup with milk and fumbling to secure the lid. She hated to show that side of herself. "Nope, I kind of like it too. But you're right, I spoke to one of the guys yesterday actually, and it's going to end up huge."

"Obviously it's needed."

"We can talk menu tomorrow…and venue. Fuck, it can't be here or they'll have to start sharing chairs."

"Can you imagine?" Callie asked with a wide grin, taking the coffee from Arizona and raising her eyebrows in emphasis. "Thanks," she said, meeting Arizona's eyes briefly. Her pupils were so big that they only exposed a thin rim of blue, it was incredibly noticeable to Callie. She had obsessed about those blue eyes since she had first met Arizona. They were stunning.

"See you tomorrow," Arizona said quickly.

Nodding, Callie seemed to hesitate with her hand midair before wrapping it securing around the recycled cardboard cup. "Careful with that," she said softly, nodding towards Arizona's face.

"Ah, it's fine."

Callie smiled and slipped away, tucking in a rogue chair as she left, hips swaying seductively. Not that she knew she was being seductive, it was all completely effortless. All the way down to her faded converse and mismatched socks, which according to her smell test, were mostly clean.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, Arizona and Kirsty tidied up the café and prepared to lock up as the last of the customers trickled out. The closing time was always variable, depending on how many people were around and whether it was financially viable to stay open. Technically the sign on the door said _0600 – 1600_ but it was definitely flexible.

Thoughts of Callie plagued Arizona as she silently went about the afternoon ritual and she couldn't quite shake the nervous feeling in her stomach. She hated passionately that Callie had been privy to a part of her life that she had no intention of disclosing. At least, not yet. Not that Callie had specifically said anything, but anyone could have seen the clogs turning in her mind, and the way her eyes scanned over Arizona a little longer than comfortable.

_Fuck it,_ Arizona cursed internally, shaking her head to chastise herself for being so reckless in exposing her flaws to Callie. Not that she knew why she even cared.

"Excuse me?"

Arizona paused, table wipe under her palm. "Sorry, we're just closing up."

"Oh, that's alright. I just wanted to put a poster up, if you're good with that."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Arizona nodded, casting her eyes over the poster the woman held up in front of her. "Go for it," she added, sweeping a hand towards the wall, "there're pins over there." Another band she had never heard of.

Grinning a wide smile, the woman, thin and tall with a mass of long curly blonde hair falling almost to her hips, walked towards the wall. Her hips protruded slightly through the bohemian knee length dress, black tights barely exposed between the hem line and her suede red boots. "Thanks so much, we're doing a few gigs here, you might like to check us out."

Arizona nodded, thinking briefly that the girl could do with a few pizzas or burgers to fill out her sunken cheeks a little. "I might do that."

"Do you play music here, CDs?"

"Yeah, I guess, just different stuff through the day," Arizona explained, indicating to the speakers in each corner of the ceiling.

"I'll leave our album, feel free to play it and let people know who we are."

Arizona gave a neutral expression but accepted the offer, the first freebie in exchange for advertising she had received. "Sure."

"Great, cheers. Thanks for that."

"Good luck."

Turning the album over in her hands, Arizona screwed her nose up. One female amongst four male band members on the front; not exactly her usual taste in music but she was willing to branch out. She had eclectic tastes, as she usually explained to anyone willing to listen.

"You know they're from Seattle, right?" Kirsty prompted from the doorway, locking the front door and securing the additional bolts at the top and bottom.

"Who? That chick?"

Laughing, Kirsty nodded. "Yep, grew up here, one of the high school's success stories; the one up the road."

"Fair enough." Tossing the disc in a bottom drawer, Arizona folded a few hand towels and hoisted herself to sit on the bench. She waited for Kirsty to turn off some lights and make her way back around. "You have anywhere to be?"

"Now?"

Sighing, Arizona nodded; didn't they know they would be better off not speaking? Whenever women talked it just highlighted their stupidity; they're pretty and attractive to her until they expose their immaturity and, well, daftness.

Smirking, Arizona made a mental note to use the word _daftness_ a little more often.

"It wasn't meant to be a trick question."

"Why? I mean, do you need me to do some extra hours?"

Callie could read her fucking mind and this twenty year old could barely interpret a direct question. A rush of anxiety ran over her again at the mere thought of Callie. "You were telling me earlier about your whole casual…approach, at the moment. I thought you might want to work on that."

Looking perpetually confused, Kirsty stood in front of Arizona, untying her apron and folding it up. "Ummm, you want to tell me how to pick up women?"

_For crying out loud._

Arizona shook her head and reached a hand out, sliding it swiftly under Kirsty's shirt and around to the centre of her back, pulling her between her legs. Mouth to her ear, Arizona huskily said, "I want to fuck you." A shudder flowed under her fingertips and Kirsty's open hands fell to Arizona's thighs. "Just to be clear."

"Really?" Eyes wide and smile slowly forming, Kirsty looked a mixture of pleased and shocked.

"So, maybe you shouldn't talk."

"I ummm, I well, I really want to fuck, umm, fuck you too."

"Really," Arizona said again, bringing her fingers to unbutton Kirsty's jeans. "Don't talk."

Ten minutes later and Arizona had her silenced waitress hoisted against the restroom wall, fingers deep inside her and tongue rapid against her exposed breasts.

It wasn't the best sex she had ever had; nor was it her worst.

Thank God she had given up counting.

* * *

Having restrung her acoustic guitar, Callie awkwardly lay on her couch. She had a pillow under her head, but concealed beneath the pillow was an old sweater and a well worn novel. She strummed the guitar constantly, a slow, low pitched melody; haunting, sad. The back of the guitar was pressed against her stomach and her hand wrapped around the neck and fluidly changed chords with barely a thought.

She played intuitively and without a cognitive direction; the music emanated from inside of her.

An extension of herself.

She closed her eyes and swallowed the emotion that simmered with each passing minute and then hour; feelings reminiscent of the loss she had never quite reconciled. It still hurt; she hurt.

Kicking her feet in protest, items tumbled to the floor; plastic containers and pieces of written music; a pen fell into an old slipper. Her fingers increased their pace, playing an illogical rapid riff; loud and angry.

Her face hardened.

She was no one anymore.

A number of loud, consecutive thumps reverberated against her wall and she could just make out the _shut up_ that followed from her neighbour.

She resisted the urge to hurl abuse back, stilling her fingers instead and reaching to the floor until she felt the familiar touch of the second joint she had rolled earlier. She slid it between her lips and lit it, closing her eyes with a long inhalation.

Callie stayed that way, guitar laid across the coffee table until she was forced to dispel the remnants to an ashtray for fear of burning her fingertips. She slept awkwardly, one foot over the back of the sofa and an arm extended so that her palm rested on the edge of her guitar.

She often wondered how she got various bruises and marks on her body; and then she would find tucked in a hidden crevice of the lounge an exact match. Picks that pressed into her back or hardback notebooks that scratched into her hip; she briefly, on the edge of sleep, considered cleaning her life up.

And just as quickly, she wondered what for.

She was no one; nothing.

* * *

Entering her apartment later that evening, Arizona flicked a light and keyed in the code to her security system, disarming the alarm. _071212_, every time she set it, every time she keyed it in; it was just a little extra reminder as to why she was in Seattle and what her goal was.

As if she would ever forget.

Discarding her keys in a porcelain bowl on the foyer table, she stepped down two steps and into an open room, shoes squeaking slightly on the high gloss tiles spread throughout the apartment. It was incredibly modern in design, sleek lines and minimally furnished, contrasting somewhat to the bold, bright artwork that dominated various walls.

Curling her fingers around the stainless steel handle of her double fridge, Arizona perused the contents briefly. It didn't take long, just numerous bottles of wine, some sparkling water, a few lone pieces of fruit alongside specialty cheeses and marinated olives.

She tucked a bottle of wine under her arm and with a container of balsamic olives, weaved through a corridor until she slumped on a wide leather couch, feet extending along a smooth chaise. Selecting a number of remote controls, she dimmed the lights and adjusted the room temperature before the wide screen television sprung to life.

The bright LED screen seemed to bring another rush of adrenalin to her already wired brain; and she fidgeted constantly for a few minutes before quickly drinking a glass of wine and settling on a channel. Her eyes flickered persistently and her mind raced, though it could barely settle on one thought before jumping to the next; just a constant stream of thoughts without process and lists without ends.

Until she neared the dregs of the bottle.

Then, stretched out on the sofa, with her shoes discarded to the floor, she tucked a fabric cushion under her head and slept.

* * *

TBC…


	5. Songs Under A Streetlight

**AN: **I'm not at all creative with author's notes – is there a better way to say 'Thank You' as much as I want without sounding like a broken record? The alerts, PMs and reviews are all appreciated (particularly for this completely AU and out of character storyline!), so thank you!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Songs Under A Streetlight**

_**February 22**__**nd**__**, 2014**_

_Careful_

_There's more_

_And more again_

_The unsaid_

_Is stronger_

_Than you_

_Or I_

"Arizona? Hey, Arizona!" Callie raised her voice slightly and manoeuvred past a towering man at the counter of the café, hands impatiently on his hips. Curling her fingers around Arizona's elbow, Callie squeezed her arm and a stressed face turned to greet her, eyes dull and forehead creased. "What's going on? It's freakin' chaotic in here."

Arizona shook her head and fumbled with an empty coffee mug, precariously balancing on a pile of plates, lined with spinach dregs and cutlery. She sighed heavily, giving Callie a relieved glance when she saved the cup from tumbling to the floor. Lowering her voice to a strained whisper, Arizona explained, "My waitress hasn't shown up for work - the little bitch."

"What? You've only just hired them, where the hell did you find these girls?"

"It's not hard is it, to show up for a rostered shift? Fuck."

Callie smiled at the customers who eyed them curiously, the hushed and tense exchange drawing their attention. "I'll take that," she murmured quietly, taking an additional bowl and tapping Arizona with her shoulder to return to the kitchen. "Which one? You should fire her arse, and deduct her pay."

"Yep, read my mind. It was that Kristy girl, the one with the dark hair. I mean, Kirsty – whatever. And if she thinks she's getting any more work she's delusional." Arizona ranted, more than aware that Kirsty's no-show was probably more to do with post work events of the day before than anything else.

"Oh, the skinny one."

Scoffing, Arizona relaxed her shoulders a little. "They're all skinny, Callie," she insisted.

"Sickening."

"So true."

"Really Arizona? With your," Callie paused, waving her hand between them as she dumped the items in the sink, "non existent stomach and _gymmed_ up legs. You don't get to comment."

"Gymmed up?" Arizona questioned, laughing. "I haven't stepped foot in a gym for six months."

"Better than six years," Callie countered with a grin, taking a few steps behind the counter. "We can continue this, after I serve this angry looking guy."

"Can you? That would be amazing."

"Of course, on to it. I'll stick around; help out for a while, would that be useful?"

Arizona eagerly nodded and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. From having Callie help out with their charity dinners, she had found her to be incredibly competent and just easy to work with. She was almost intuitive, knew exactly what needed to be done and when; and, was more than apt at knowing when to shepherd Arizona away from unsuspecting victims when her frustration flared. "Thank you," she said softly, but Callie had already turned away and was working at endearing herself to the impatient customer.

If Callie was planning on making a point of highlighting Arizona's appearance the day before, she was concealing it well. So much so, that Arizona barely gave it another thought as they both worked consistently for the next two hours, until the morning rush dissipated.

When only a few relaxed patrons remained scattered throughout, Arizona and Callie both slumped to a small square table, closest to the entrance to the kitchen. Callie laid two large mugs in front of them. "I feel like I've been on my feet for hours," she muttered lightly.

Checking her watch, Arizona nodded. "You have been. You must be desperate for this coffee."

"Ah, yeah, well, I may have snuck one a little earlier, just to keep me going."

Laughing, Arizona raked a hand through her loosely tied hair, tucking pieces of grown out bangs behind her ears. "Only one?"

"Yeah, restrained, right?"

"Irish coffee would have been better. I can't believe how busy it's gotten, I really haven't been open that long."

"Because it's amazing; you have no idea how long this street has waited for a decent coffee shop to open."

Arizona shyly shrugged. "I'm just surprised. I recall some being a little unimpressed by my menu."

Sheepishly, Callie sipped at her coffee and licked her lips of milk remnants before continuing. "You remember that, huh? I take it all back, organic…gluten, lactose, nut free food tastes incredible. You're a genius."

"It's not all like that!"

"Just causin' trouble," Callie teased. "So we were planning on working on the next meal thing…" she said after a few moments of silence, trailing off as Arizona groaned.

"I think I need a timeout for a few minutes."

"Thank fuck for that, because right now I think serving canned spaghetti on toast is the best idea ever."

"The idea of serving anything makes me want to go all foetal," Arizona admitted, kicking her feet out under the table and grazing Callie's legs. "I'm paying you for today, by the way," she added suddenly, "your timing was impeccable."

Callie was shaking her head before Arizona finished the sentence. "Don't be crazy, I was just helping out."

"Umm, nope. You do way too much helping out, do you get paid for any work you do?"

Callie blushed slightly. "I like it here, I mean, I wouldn't do it at the bar I work at because it's completely feral. No one ogles my tits here," she said, chuckling. Arizona gave a bemused expression in response; she had certainly _ogled_ Callie's breasts, fine that they were. "And I don't frequently get prostitution offers."

Arizona dropped her head, laughing; she swiped a hand out and her fingers trailed briefly over Callie's forearm. "Well, I'm still paying you."

"You pay me enough with coffee, better trade than dollars."

"Callie." Callie glanced up at Arizona's enunciation of her name, all chastising but gentle; with the syllable emphasis just a little different to most. Arizona raised her eyebrows, as if challenging Callie to push the issue.

"Dinner," Callie murmured quickly, before she had time to consider and talk herself out of it. She swallowed. "Take me to dinner instead."

They paused and Arizona's expression became flaccid, lips separating slightly. It was brief but just long enough for Callie to avert her gaze back to the coffee mug she wrapped two hands around.

In a few rapid seconds, she had torn down the momentary sense of self confidence she felt, and the ridiculous idea that Arizona was even remotely in her league.

"Tonight," Arizona said, perceptively squaring her shoulders and straightening her back.

"What?"

Dropping her head to the side, Arizona smiled. "Tonight, let me take you to dinner tonight."

"You don't have to, really; it was just an idea, I didn't mean to pressure you."

"I'm taking you to dinner tonight," Arizona insisted strongly, taking away an opportunity for Callie to back out of the discussion. "I'll finish up here this afternoon and we can have a drink at my place or somewhere before dinner. I'm taking you out, Callie."

Slowly, Callie nodded and as she sipped distractedly at her coffee, a soft glow warmed her cheeks. There was something appealing about the adrenalin rush of putting something, no matter how perceptively small, on the line. Even better when it wasn't battered away. She didn't know Arizona well, at all, but she didn't seem like the kind of person to bother with silly games. She couldn't really imagine Arizona putting time and effort into anything, if she didn't want to; and going out to dinner, making conversation, was something that required interest and effort.

Unconvincingly, she told herself it was only a meal, and nothing more than that. Just a way for Arizona to settle a debt.

Just a way for Arizona to settle a debt.

Of course, Callie realised; Arizona wasn't taking her on a date; she was just making sure she didn't owe this random stranger something more than coffee. She was probably concerned Callie would want to cash in on her favours at some point; and Arizona was too smart for having that kind of shit on her back.

"Callie? You still with us?"

"Mmmm."

"I was just saying that maybe we should frock up a little, nothing too fancy but given I'm not thinking of letting you out of here all day, I at least want to take you somewhere nice. Would that be okay?"

"Ummm," Callie stumbled her way back to reality, cursing the negative spin her mind involuntarily gave to anything positive in her life. "I guess," she internally scanned the contents of her closet, having an inkling that she had some old cocktail dresses in a suitcase somewhere. Which would hopefully fall off of her rather than not do up. "I'm not sure I have too many options, this is pretty much what I wear every day."

"Well, I used to wear my pyjamas when I worked from home, so it looks pretty good from here. But hey, I'm happy for you to wear jeans." Arizona sucked in a quick breath, everything she had always been criticised on was right there in one single sentence. "Sorry, that didn't come out right at all; you don't need my permission to wear anything. I just meant that there's no pressure, I might wear jeans."

Callie laughed and shook her head. "Is it just me or did this conversation get weird?"

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Arizona dropped her hand to the table and relaxed, meeting Callie's eyes. "Fuck," she muttered with a light laugh, and Callie found the piercing blue to be all the more evident after the affected pupils she observed the day before. "I think I just lost my shit. So, tonight, after we close up, we'll do something – drinks, dinner, whatever we want to do; no stress. Plan?"

"Plan."

* * *

"I can't describe how keen I am for a wine," Arizona declared, lifting the flap on her leather satchel to secure her keys as her and Callie left through the back of the café. Callie waited for her at the bottom of the steps, hands in the pockets of her loose jeans, flip-flop exposed feet cool in the late afternoon temperature.

"Me too – and white or red, sparkling…wouldn't bother me right now."

"You're right; I really need some more staff."

"Decent staff Arizona, maybe some college students might be better."

Walking around the back of the dimly lit shops, they stepped over gravel until reaching an alley that led them to the street front. Arizona followed Callie, habitually lingering an open palm at the small of her back before dropping her hand away. She knew why things were different with Callie; she recognised her behaviours from years past. It had only happened once, maybe twice if she was being particularly open and honest with herself. She lost a little bit of confidence, or arrogance; and although she was undeniably attracted, she wanted conversation and presence. Her thoughts weren't preoccupied with how good of a lay Callie would be; she was driven to learn more about her and hear her perspective, stories.

Which was not her style; not even remotely.

She couldn't care less for conversation most of the time.

It wasn't that she didn't spend time imagining what it would be like to lay Callie down and explore every inch of her decadent skin, but it was exactly that. She envisaged soft lighting and melodic music; gentle laughter and slow, sensual moans.

And in the morning, she would make Callie coffee and breakfast; because they would both be there - in the morning.

She had fought so hard to forget the feel of someone next to her in bed; the feelings of safety and security that it elicited in her. And she had. She had even become accustomed to it, enjoying the space and tossing and turning as much as she liked. She could wear pyjamas in winter and not have it misconceived as no longer being attracted; just like she could crawl under the covers naked and not have it mean instant sexual gratification. It really was simpler.

Predictable.

Lonely.

She missed having someone to banter with sometimes, to share dinners with and a drink. Someone who she knew the name of and what blend of wine to order for them; it wasn't all mixed up names and slurred dirty talk in bathrooms.

Her plan wasn't to meet someone though and she needed to remind herself of that. This wasn't about her; Seattle wasn't about her. She needed to not forget that, she shouldn't be distracted.

"I know this will sound completely dysfunctional, but do you mind waiting across the road while I go and get changed? My place is really messy, as in, you might sustain an injury if you come inside but the bar I work at is just across the road and they'll serve you a drink and I'll be quick." Callie broke Arizona's tangential self analysis, having silently led Arizona down the street and around a corner. "It's just there," she said.

"Hey you are close," Arizona acknowledged, unfazed by the derelict building they stood in front of.

"Explains why I was so thrilled you had decent coffee."

"It does. So, you want me to wait for you there?"

"I'm sorry, is that okay?"

Arizona shrugged. "Up to you, I'm sure your place is fine though."

Laughing, Callie said, "No, it's not. Trust me. Tell Jake that you're a friend of mine and he's to not let any fuckwits hit on you. And he's not to hit on you."

"Should I phrase it like that?" Arizona asked.

"Yep, just like that. He'll know it came from me then."

"No problems, take your time. It's only a quick walk to mine then."

"Thanks Arizona, I won't be long."

Callie hastily walked into her small apartment block and up the stairs to her door; she had shamefully spent the afternoon trying to figure out how she could avoid Arizona seeing where she lived. It didn't matter what excuse she came up with, because she had to have one. There was no way she was going to invite Arizona in.

As quickly as she could, she applied some eye makeup and a little colour to her cheeks; just enough to make it appropriate for an evening out but nothing like what she used to wear for interviews or photo shoots. Clothing was more problematic, she wasn't keen on a dress and even if she could find them, they probably needed laundering and pressing. Neither of which was an option with the ten minutes she figured she had.

She had a clear style once, when she was performing; always the tomboyish yet uniquely individual one in the band. Where the others tended to be a little more conventional, she would experiment with different shirts with political slogans or controversial images, paired with a variety of jeans and trousers. And she always had a different hat and vest to wear, even jewellery.

Her girlfriend at the time would always comment, whining for her to look more 'normal'. Whatever that meant.

_You look like a dyke; why do you have to advertise it?_

Callie used to just walk away, occasionally ranting about being able to wear whatever the fuck she wanted and how stereotypes only have power because people who should know better still prescribe to them. It never made sense to her, how someone apparently so comfortable with their sexuality could still be so critical of their own community; of their own minority group.

It all made sense now of course, but it didn't back then.

Arizona didn't seem to care; Callie had seen the way that she interacted with every customer with equal respect. From the homeless they chatted every two weeks with to the business women in their designer suits and three inch heels who ordered their non-fat soy crap.

Sometimes she thought Arizona didn't even notice; which didn't even come close to making sense when Arizona mentioned she had bought her bag in Milan last year or her shoes from Paris - which she articulated after counting out pennies from an odorous teenager and giving him back more change than he paid.

Bizarre.

Boosted with that thought, Callie quickly dressed in a pair of distressed skinny jeans and paired them with a thin v-neck white shirt. It exposed ample cleavage and slipping a necklace over her head, she was pleased to find the long pendant rest just on her sternum before disappearing between her breasts. One of her old performing jackets was still on a hanger, squashed against the wall of her closet and she slipped her arms through. She could secure it at her stomach with two clips and it hung to her hips at the front. Turning to check the mirror, she nodded approvingly at the back, white tee just pocking out over her backside, slightly longer than the back of the curved jacket.

She tapped her fingers; she desperately needed a cigarette. Just something to take the edge off.

She would have one on the way to Arizona's.

Content, Callie pulled on an old pair of grey boots, loose over her calves now but adequate and keeping her usual satchel with her, she headed back to Arizona.

* * *

Walking to Arizona's was settling somehow, a reminder that they chatted easily and without awkward silences or rushed speech. And it was the perfect distance to inhale a full cigarette and squish the butt into a sidewalk trash can.

Well, it was relaxing until Arizona made a sudden turn off the path and up the steps to the entrance to her apartment block. So sudden, that Callie took a few more steps before realising Arizona had disappeared from her side.

It was easily the most exclusive new block in the area.

Slipping her hands into her back pockets, Callie followed silently, trying to maintain a composed exterior. Which she managed to maintain until they entered Arizona's apartment, code entered and the polished floors and high ceilings evoked an involuntary gasp.

Arizona peered at her, curiously.

"Sorry," Callie mumbled, "just a ah, nice place."

Shrugging, Arizona half smiled and led Callie in, tossing her keys onto the marble kitchen bench and bag on the floor. She would never usually be so careless, but she could read the discomfort coming from Callie; and she wasn't keen to offend the only person she had invited in to her home since she had arrived in Seattle.

In fact, she wasn't keen to offend Callie at all; quite the opposite really.

"Red or white?" Arizona asked.

"Ummm, wine?"

Laughing, Arizona nodded and ran a hand down Callie's arm. "Yes wine, I don't want to know what you first thought of."

"Whatever you have open is great, thanks."

Arizona rolled her eyes but crouched down to a temperature controlled wine cabinet, built in under the bench. She stood up with a boutique merlot and poured them both a glass. "Okay?"

"Mmmm," Callie nodded her agreement, "beautiful." She licked her full lips, tasting a combination of wine and gloss. "Hey, how was Jake before? He has a bit of a habit of hassling people, thinks he can pick up whoever he wants from behind that bar."

"Yeah, I got that impression. Confident young thing, isn't he?"

"Confident…arrogant. He's pretty good though actually, it's all just an act; he's generally a nice guy. Particularly once he knows you're off his market."

"He seemed intent on doing the big brother thing. Oh, and he told me that your taste in women is horrendous."

Callie gave a considered expression before smiling and nodding. "True, not that he would have used that word."

"Not quite, but I paraphrased."

"I thought my language was bad, but his is fowl."

"Probably a necessary thing doing that job, you would cop some shit wouldn't you?"

"Yep, drunk or drug fucked men are just delightful and the later it gets, the worse they become."

"Tough job."

Callie scoffed lightly, eyes drifting around the expansive room. "It pays the bills."

"More importantly," Arizona rushed to change the subject, "tell me about this crappy taste in women you have."

"Ohhh, that's a conversation for more wine. Go get changed and I'll try not to fall asleep on your sofa."

Holding her hands up in defeat, Arizona chuckled as she walked away. As jovial as Callie was, she was clearly apt at averting conversation topics when she needed to; politely and skilfully, but incredibly effectively.

* * *

By the time desert was served, they had lost count of the number of glasses of wine they had consumed and the conversation flowed freely, albeit with the occasionally slurred word and tangential topic. Fork poised over the red velvet brownie they had been sharing for the last hour, Arizona rested her chin on her fist and gave Callie a contemplative look.

"What did I do? Was my bite too big? Do you have some weird food sharing system?" Callie rambled.

As if she barely heard Callie's rushed, light-hearted questions, Arizona asked, "Was it really your birthday? That day you first came in to the café?"

"Yes!" Callie answered, a little louder than she intended before dropping her voice. "It was, I do not lie."

"You looked so sad, shit birthday hey?"

"I fucking hate birthdays," Callie insisted, "bad shit always happens on my birthdays."

"This year too?"

Shaking her head, Callie grinned. "Nuh, this year, you gave me a brownie. Clearly, it doesn't take much to improve on every other year, because this was the best birthday in a long time."

"That is pretty sad."

"Don't tell me you are one of those freaks that like their birthday?"

"Oh God no, I don't celebrate birthdays. Awful things."

Callie laughed loudly and she dropped a hand to fall over Arizona's, resting on the edge of the table. "You're a little bit crazy, you know that?"

"Just a little?"

"You're all this bundle of contradiction; you're rich as all fuck from producing TV stuff but you still opened a café of all things, just for a sea change. A sea change that isn't even a good one, the harbour is not a sea change, Arizona. And," Callie continued, "you do all charity stuff without anyone really knowing but you're…it's not like you're an angel. You're all into cigarettes and whatever else you do; you don't make sense."

Callie exhaled slowly, and the fork which had been wildly flying around in the air with her gesturing hands, stilled. She found blue eyes fixed on her, Arizona looking completely bemused at Callie's summary of the evening's conversation.

She took another long sip of wine to wash down the chocolate crumbs lingering in her mouth. "I'm the complicated one?" she asked rhetorically of Callie. "Can I remind you," she said slowly, fingers curling around Callie's wrist, lingering mid air, "that you are this amazing, accomplished musician who barely writes music, never performs and works in a bar pulling beers instead? How is that any less complex?"

"I could be a really crap musician," Callie countered, teasingly.

"Oh yeah, right, of course. A really crap musician that had a recording contract."

"Shush, we were talking about you."

Arizona laughed, shaking her head as it fell loosely back, waves of blond hair loose over the back of the chair. Finally noticing the empty restaurant, she glanced at her watch and Callie nodded. "I think they're waiting for us," Arizona murmured.

"I'll just use the restroom, you finish that up," Callie pointed loosely to the plate, standing slowly and steadying herself before walking to the bathroom, just off to the side. Her fingertips trailed over the back of empty chairs, silently convincing herself that she was walking perfectly straight and rhythmically, with complete sobriety.

Arizona was just as coordinated when she stood, having hastily waved her credit card at the waiter as soon as Callie disappeared through the sliding glass door. And by the time she returned, Arizona was standing patiently, chatting easily to the staff with both their bags in her hand. "You good to go?" she asked.

"Sure, we'll just split the bill, yeah?"

Arizona was shaking her head before Callie murmured the word, _bill_. "Ah, you worked all day, remember? This was a thank you."

"Ohhhh, that's right. I vaguely recall being on my feet all day," Callie acknowledged, ducking her head and allowing Arizona to place her bag over her head and to straighten the strap over her shoulder. Callie steadied herself, hands loosely on Arizona's hips.

It was a subtle dance, just enough awareness to keep their closeness on the edge of platonic; barely. It continued as they walked out to the street, frequent soft touches on the arm and back, as if it were never enough yet too much at the same time.

"I was going to suggest we go for a nightcap…" Arizona trailed off.

"But then you tried to walk?"

They laughed, and Callie pressed her face briefly into the curve of Arizona's shoulder, fingers wrapped around her forearm. She inhaled; senses overwhelmed with the smell of perfume and pheromones.

"Let me escort you home, Calliope?"

"Cab?"

It only took a few minutes to hail a passing cab and less than fifteen minutes later, Arizona brushed a soft kiss to Callie's cheek as she slid out of the backseat of the car. Asking the driver to wait, Arizona watched her walk up a few steps and down an open corridor, just making out Callie's outline in the darkness.

When she disappeared from view, Arizona gave some brief directions to the driver and they slowly headed down the street.

* * *

Squinting against the bright lights, Arizona rubbed at her eyes. Her ears had a familiar buzzing sensation from the abrupt end to blaring music.

Bodies swarmed around her and the woman she had been dancing with slid an open palm over her backside and between her legs, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades.

Another woman pressed into her front, fingernails lightly grazing over her breasts.

And the one from the bar, earlier, caught her eye from across the room and held a questioning hand, palm up, in the air.

She could have any woman she wanted; or all of them. She had that impact on people, if she wanted something than they were powerless to her desire.

But tonight; tonight, she wasn't interested.

Tonight, she had dinner with a woman, who didn't fuck her before she knew her name; who on their first date, went home alone.

She peeled the wandering hands from her body and shook her head; hastily fading into the crowd that swarmed towards the exit.

She went home.

* * *

**TBC…**


	6. Ms Unavailability

**AN: **Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, messaging, commenting, liking…etc. You're fabulously motivating. :-)

* * *

**Chapter Five: Ms Unavailability**

_March 4th 2014_

_Because sometimes_

_You want to feel more_

_So you touch_

_Less_

"…and then, I was made redundant from my insurance job and my wife, well, it's not easy to spend your life with someone who is nothin' like the man you married. I was depressed, on all types of meds, and mixing them all with a bottle of rum a day; I wouldn't have stayed with me neither. But my kids, she took me bloody kids and turned them against me, made me out to be some no hope'n father."

Arizona and Callie both nodded appropriately, offering encouraging soothing murmurs; but the story had been going for at least fifteen minutes. Arizona had gradually draped herself over Callie's shoulder, chin resting on the curve of her upper arm and sporadically swapping which foot she was weight bearing on.

It was late, another successful charity dinner pretty was much completed, and the numbers had spilled out the front door. The next dinner they would do at a space a few streets away; a youth centre that was happy to donate their activity centre for the fortnightly dinner.

It had been Callie that had been tired that evening, although she suspected that Arizona's energy wasn't entirely natural. Her pupils were wide again, deep black sauces that tore away the blue that Callie had become magnetised to. What ever she had taken was wearing off now though, her arm heavy around Callie's neck and breath a little too rapid. Interlacing her fingers with Arizona's, Callie grinned and interrupted the continued storytelling. Each guest seemed to have a more complicated, more traumatic story, it was endless really. People don't become homeless for no reason. "So, are you all planning on sleeping here tonight?" she asked, cheekily.

A cheer spontaneously erupted and Arizona stood up straight, shaking her head with a smile. "Not a chance you lot, Callie and I are exhausted."

"Are you two finally shacking up?"

"Hey! Respect our girls, they don't gotta tell _you_ a thing."

"_Our _girls?" Callie asked softly, turning her head and speaking into Arizona's ear, her hushed whisper blowing warm air across Arizona's temple.

"Hmmm," Arizona murmured, shrugging her shoulders and dismissing the continuing exchange with a wave of her hand. She walked towards the entrance of the café, playfully clipping one of the men jumping to their defence over the back of the head. She squinted through the glass windows, just making out the outline of someone standing outside the door, arm up against the door frame.

Callie continued to banter with the guests, stacking a pile of plates at one end of the table, where a number of people had already left. Some were less social than others, just quietly eating their meal and offering their soft gratitude before disappearing back into the dark night. Others clearly didn't get along with some of the groups, cliques almost, or they came from across town and chose not to mix. The politics and the unspoken hierarchy was obvious, and each time, Callie and Arizona gained a little more information about how rough sleeping survival actually worked. It was intriguing; shocking.

The conversation stilled somewhat, as Arizona opened the door and took a couple of steps backwards, a tall young man talking quickly down to her. She shook her head a number of times, gesturing and pointing back out the door. Their exchange was quiet but hurried, quick words and forced expressions, jaws tight. Arizona indicated again to the exit and the male straightened, squaring his shoulders and placing his hands on his hips. He looked around, eyes scanning and jumping from one person to the next.

Callie slowly drew her hands back from the table, taking two steps towards Arizona before a number of their guests slowly stood in their places, chairs screeching as they were pushed backwards.

An eerie quietness fell over them; holding, waiting.

Arizona glanced back to Callie, and Callie struggled to read her expression, unsure as to whether to intervene or not.

A loud forced cough emanated next to her.

As Callie exhaled slowly the tension seemed to spontaneously break and the man in front of Arizona slipped quietly back out the door. A chaotic exchange erupted, cutlery scraping as elbows fell back on to the table and chairs were pulled in.

Callie closely watched Arizona close the door and shake her head to no one, her cheeks flushed when she turned back to expectant eyes. She was flooded with questions, numerous people talking over each other, louder and louder in hope of being responded too.

Arizona offered a strained smile, stepping towards Callie and leaning back against the counter, hands on the edge. Her white knuckles betrayed the controlled even breaths she was taking. Callie gave her a questing expression, one eyebrow rising before her eyes narrowed.

Nodding, Arizona mouthed a silent _okay_ before shaking her head at the expectant crowd. "Settle down, you're like dogs on heat."

"Miss Arizona."

"It's alright Tom, no harm done," Arizona instructed the older man they had begun to get to know. He was somewhat the protector; a wealth of information for new, younger street kids and just someone to keep the more aggressive people away. He had an air of authority, huge square shoulders, tattoos over his bald head and down each arm. He also drank each night until he passed out, occasionally in an emergency room from the numerous unwanted effects of ingesting anything and everything with alcohol content. Methylated spirits weren't great for the gastro-intestinal tract.

Tom shook her head wildly. "Nah ah," he insisted, index finger pointing knowingly at Arizona, "I'll send someone better here, not him. Not him."

"Just a misunderstanding, everything is under control."

"Nothin's ever under control with that fuck of a fuck," he spat out and a chorus of agreement came from a few others. "No no no, I'll sort."

"Tom," Arizona said curtly and Callie sucked in her bottom lip, eyes following the exchange without her head moving.

"He's not someone…"

"Enough," Arizona interrupted, and she turned and stepped away, following the length of the counter before walking behind it, picking up a dishcloth and throwing it bundled into the sink.

Callie continued to watch for just a few more seconds, as people thumped Tom on the shoulders and muttered words of encouragement. "Her choice, man," one younger guy murmured before slipping out the door with a few others, avoiding whatever altercation they seemed to envisage resulting.

"How about you take off, Tom," Callie suggested softly, "we're just about done here, let us get on to some cleaning, hey." Callie could sense the barely controlled anger simmering beneath the surface; and she knew exactly what kind of uninhibited violence that could occur from any of their patrons. She worked hard at keeping her voice soft and low, evenly paced. "We're at the youth centre next fortnight, will be good to have a bit more space. We'll need your advice, let us know who all the new folk are. I'm starting to forget names, I think I introduced myself three times to that teenager tonight, Nick was it?"

"She doesn't know what she's dealing with."

Callie shrugged, possibly or possibly not; she had a feeling Arizona wasn't completely blind in whatever had just played out. "Don't underestimate her," she said quietly, patting Tom on the back. She flattened her palm and pressed it between his shoulder blades, old thick suede jacket under her fingers. "But you leave Arizona to me."

"Just tell her I can sort her out, she doesn't need him. No questions alright, no questions but I can look after her."

Callie nodded and tried to genuinely smile, to placate the tenseness emanating. "Will do. Now you're all going to take it easy tonight, right? No causing trouble, ending up in the lock up or in the ER?"

"Always love, always. Now thanks for the meal, we'll get Tom outta ya hair."

Tom shrugged away the attempt, throwing his hands up in the air and leaving with a mutter of expletives under his breath.

"See you next time, Tom!" Callie called after him and Arizona gave a general wave to everyone from behind the counter.

"He'll be right, thanks again."

Slowly, they all filed out, thanking Callie and Arizona as they went. Callie followed them to the door and secured the lock, giving a fleeting look to the small pile of plates on the table and crumbs and spilt pasta remnants that needed cleaning. "My interest level in doing this last lot of dishes is nil, just so you know," Callie said, arching her back and joining her hands behind her head. She stretched her neck. Earning no response from Arizona, looked around, the room suddenly absent of her. "Now I'm talking to myself," she added with a light laugh, tucking in some chairs as she headed to the back of the café.

Callie sighed as she rounded the counter, finding Arizona sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her, sad dull eyes following Callie.

"Wine?" Arizona asked, quickly halting Callie's impending _are you okay_ line of questioning.

"Here?" Callie enquired curiously, after a brief pause, pointing to Arizona's position on the floor.

"Works for me. You?"

"Can't see why not; I'll get a bottle."

"Can you get the gin instead? It's in the freezer."

Callie nodded, who was she to question the use of alcohol as a coping strategy? She had lost count of the nights she had drank herself into oblivion over the years, passing out in the corner of a bar or waking up on some unknown sofa in an unknown suburb. And there were worse ways to do it than with something as classy as gin. Like the unfortunate night in '98, when the band they were opening for introduced them to a drinking game that may or may not have had something to do with standing under a hanging bag of cheap arse shiraz.

She can still recall the horrific burning sensation of vomited red wine, and the fact that she woke with her head in a bucket and body under a flannel bush.

Gin seemed like a much more appropriate option, so Callie returned with a bottle tucked under her arm and a couple of cans of tonic water from the fridge. "I used to make these pretty incredible gin martinis," Arizona said, as Callie lowered herself opposite her and mixed their drinks.

"Yeah?" Callie replied softly, expecting an elaboration.

"Yeah."

"So, with, some sort of mixer or just olives or something?"

"Ummm, passionfruit actually, weird I know. But really good."

"Oh nice." Callie handed Arizona a tumbler, almost equal parts alcohol and soda. "You'll have to make it for me sometime."

Arizona nodded slowly, sipping and resting her head back. She closed her eyes, feeling Callie's inquisitive concern.

"I don't need to know who he is, you know," Callie murmured after a long silence. "I just didn't like how…aggressive he was, I suppose."

Smiling slightly at Callie, Arizona screwed her nose up and averted her gaze. "He was expecting an, an order; so he's alright, generally. Pissed he didn't meet his quota maybe."

Callie stared into her drink for a moment, swallowing a few mouthfuls before responding. "I figured," she admitted, "what are you in to?"

"Oh, nothing really."

"Arizona." It wasn't critical; how could she possibly be critical? It was more Arizona's style of minimising things or brushing over them and Callie was starting to recognise the pattern. Whenever she started to learn something about Arizona that had a little more depth than just simple, observable facts, then Arizona politely steered the conversation away.

Bit like Callie, really.

"It's not a big deal."

"I've noticed, a bit, a few times. Crystal meth?"

Arizona screwed her nose up, smirking as she shook her head. "No, who would know what that's cut with."

Callie assessed a little longer, holding the silence until Arizona conceded a soft laugh. "Broke you," Callie said, kicking her foot out and gently tapping Arizona's thigh.

"Cocaine," she explained softly, "clean, pure stuff. And only occasionally, it's not something I need."

Shrugging, Callie whistled air out of her pursed lips. "Not here to give you shit, Arizona."

"Yeah well, it's not something I advertise. Not something to put on the dating profile."

"You have a _dating_ profile?"

"Noooooo, no, no. Just a saying," Arizona rushed to justify, anxious and embarrassed until she finally forced herself to look at Callie. She was relaxed and smiling warmly at her, as if they had just had a conversation about the whining couple booted off one of those home renovation reality shows rather than Arizona's indulgent drug of choice.

Indulgent; as if it was a real choice.

"You careful with it? That guy that came tonight, he's your supplier?"

Arizona waved the questions away, taking a few full mouthfuls and tipping her head back to rest against the cupboards. "It went well tonight, yeah? So many people though, we just can't fit them all in here."

It was comforting almost to Callie, how she was coming to predict Arizona's way of communicating, of being. She was never rude or obnoxious, just quietly dismissive and there was a sense of anxiety that Callie was picking up on. It hadn't been obvious at first, but now that they were getting to know each other and spending more time together, there was an edginess that Arizona got in her body when she wasn't in complete control.

She wondered just how much Arizona could be pushed before she cracked; and whether she would crumble in tears or throw punches, literally or figuratively. And rapidly she wanted to know, she wanted to know the things about Arizona that she didn't share with the world. And she wanted her to know that it was okay not to be perfect, that Callie wasn't going to judge or criticise her for being human; God knows she had her own flaws.

"Yeah, for sure," Callie agreed, pulling her legs back and crossing them yoga style; it was effort to get them into position. Pondering, she had to admit, she had never actually done yoga, though it always seemed like an appropriate self caring idea. Before she gave up particularly caring about her life. "Being in the music scene for so many years, I've seen a lot; done a lot," she added quietly and Arizona met her eyes curiously. She nodded, just a slight up and down movement, expression encouraging. "It's a crap line to tread, trying not to lose control but needing to have times when you're not sober."

"It's hardly good, but definitely common. I love that people think it's just crazies that use though, it's so naïve and pretty stupid."

"Ha!" Callie exclaimed, topping her glass up and reaching over to do the same to Arizona's. "People still think that?"

"Oh absolutely."

"Is it not a tough life though? Trying to work and do what you do and still use?"

"I thought I remembered you saying you're no angel either? Or was that not you?" Of course it was Callie, Arizona knew that.

Callie grinned, raising her eyebrows cheekily. "I'm definitely no angel, it's okay. Like I said, no judgements here."

"So…."

Laughing, Callie reached to her side and her hand fell on Arizona's leg, she let her palm rest unmoving. "Cannabis is my choice, too much actually. But hey, that's life."

Arizona nodded. "I figured."

"Frustrated musician and all?"

"Something like that," Arizona murmured and dropped her head to the side, ear almost to her own shoulder. Callie's frequently blood shot and glazed eyes had been the giveaway; Arizona's sector had always been too good for something as frivolous as Cannabis which was insane, cheap didn't exactly mean it wasn't harmful.

Or purposeful.

"Arizona?" Callie asked after a moment, fingertips tapping at Arizona's leg.

"Callie?"

"What would you think of having dinner with me, again?"

Arizona paused.

And Callie clicked her tongue, opening her mouth to retract the offer just as Arizona answered.

"I would think that would be awesome."

"Awesome?"

"Yep, awesome."

* * *

Sitting next to each other at a high, street front bar, Arizona and Callie sipped their umpteenth glass of wine and chatted freely. Callie gestured constantly, hands flying fluidly through the air whilst Arizona rested her elbow on the table and supported her chin.

They watched the traffic go past, erratic bombs and one spotless, if not unfortunately orange coloured Maserati, as well as countless in between. "Fucking dicks, can't imagine why I'm not straight," Callie commented.

"Because you think that men who drive overpriced sports cars are misogynistic losers?" Arizona amusingly asked.

"Yeah well, there's that and that whole biological drive thing. It's not like I saw a burnt orange Maserati and thought, hey, egos shit me so I better develop a breast fetish."

"Isn't that what some of those conservative religious fanatics teach?"

"Yes!" Callie exclaimed, smacking a hand to her mouth when she spilled some drops of white wine down her chin. "That was what it was like as a teenager in the Catholic Church, my Olds dragged me off to speak to the priest and I was told I was sinning and choosing a one way ticket to Hell. All brimstone and fire and all that; beware the wrath!"

"Oooo, did your parents come around?"

"Yeah, surely did. I think they figured out there were bigger issues in the world; not that I hear from them much now but they're around. They just don't love my lifestyle."

"Lifestyle? What, they don't approve of your music career?"

"More everything that goes with that. They may have paid a detox bill or two over the years."

"I suppose that wouldn't make them thrilled, but that's impressive that they haven't just disappeared from your life."

Callie nodded eagerly. "They're alright my family, could definitely be worse. How about you? You don't talk about anyone much."

"I've just pretty much done my own thing for a long time, they don't play a part. I prefer it that way actually, as dysfunctional as that sounds."

"You put yourself through College without their help?"

"Mmmm," Arizona said, "I worked at the same time, straight out of school. Started just cleaning sets in LA all week and studying around that, and then I fell into jobs, climbing my way up. I say fell in, but it was hard work; I didn't get to be producing multiple shows at twenty-five just lazing around. I could never teach my staff that, work ethic. People just want to be handed stuff on a silver platter and be paid a fortune for it."

"If only," Callie agreed, though she had markedly less drive than Arizona. She hadn't always been that way, but some things were just too hard to come back from; it took time and the reward had to be worth it. And right now, it wasn't to Callie. A life on the road, by herself, wasn't worth it. "There has to be a crapload of drugs around LA though, right? That extortionately paid acting scene?"

Arizona laughed and nodded. "Too many rich kids with way too much money and no boundaries. They're the ones that I hate seeing caught up in that; the media only portrays half of the overdoses and crap that goes on."

"Really?"

"Yeah, honestly, don't even buy those magazines. It's all tip offs and carefully orchestrated drama, all correlating with movie releases or new seasons of shows, anything to raise the profile. Bad press is even better than good press."

"Ohhh, I want to hear more. You must know some great gossip."

"Ah no," Arizona insisted, stretching her arm to rest over the back of Callie's chair and Callie instinctively repositioned to feel her touch against her exposed shoulder blade. "I don't like to focus on my old life; I'm all about coffee beans now."

Following the line of Arizona's arm and up her neck and face, Callie nodded. "So, I've had enough to drink now and I've been wanting to ask you about your whole relationship story." Arizona's lips tugged and she eyed Callie. "You're single right."

"Do you really think I have someone hiding somewhere? That I haven't mentioned?"

"No, I'm just making sure."

"I'm sorry, yes Callie, I'm single. And happily so."

"How long has it been?"

"Been?"

"Oh, not that. I meant, how long has it been since you were in a relationship!" Callie blushed and Arizona looked away, dropping her arm and staring into her glass before tipping it up and swallowing the last few mouthfuls.

"A while," she evasively answered, shrugging the question away. "To be honest, I'm not really the relationship type."

"Ah, relationship versus casual sex…" Callie surmised.

"Age old question."

"Age old? Really?"

"Perhaps; it's an old debate though, are people really designed for monogamous life long partnerships?"

"Fuck, that's a bit deep."

Arizona rolled her eyes before exposing a dimpled smile. "That's what she said…right?"

"Oh touché," Callie said jovially in reply, rubbing Arizona's forearm comfortingly, silently telling her that she wasn't running an interrogation. She passed her almost empty glass to Arizona. "Here, you finish that and I'll get us another."

"Thanks Calliope," Arizona said quietly and Callie wondered if the slight glean in her eyes was from the breeze or if she had actually just elicited a little emotion.

A reaction; a miniscule hint that Arizona wasn't always in control. She had to admit, she liked that idea.

Returning a few minutes later with a bottle and two fresh glasses, Callie slid awkwardly back on to the stool, fumbling to settle the items in front of them. "I've fucking sworn off relationships," she declared, somewhat dramatically.

Arizona glanced over her shoulder towards the bar and back again. "Just in the last five minutes?"

"No, not just in the last five minutes. I just think you're right, we're not meant to be partnered up for life."

"Hey, preaching to the converted Callie."

"I should tell you," Callie started to say, dropping her voice to a barely contained husky whisper and leaning closer into Arizona, hand heavy and high on her thigh. "I would have slept with you after our last date."

Arizona felt a spread of heat up her neck; her attraction to Callie wasn't the issue and her forwardness was tampering with her restraint. "But then it would all get messy," Arizona said softly and Callie thought, with a tinge of regret.

"I can serve coffee and have sex with you."

"At the same time?" Arizona joked, avoidance at its best.

"Funny."

"You remember that girl I had working with me for a couple of weeks, that didn't show back up to work?"

"Yeah, whatever her name was, yep…"

"I know why she didn't show up to work, I ah, I screwed her after closing up, in the bathroom out back. That didn't work out so well."

"Oh," Callie murmured, tearing her hand away and forming a fist in her lap, "I get it. You're into the young, tiny, pretty things. I'm with you, no problem, let's toast that shit. I'll drink to that."

Arizona smiled, somewhat inappropriately she thought, but couldn't help it, given her body's reaction to Callie since the first time they met. "Yeah, that's not quite right," she said firmly, but lightly, running her hand down the inside of Callie's elbow and enclosing her fist. "I'm not sure I could keep the boundaries with you Callie; I want you to feel comfortable coming to the café, still doing the dinners with me. And I want to be able to talk with you and for everything to be easy and okay; for us to go out and have drinks and meals." She sighed. "When I sleep with women, I don't see them again and I actually want to see you again."

"I'm not a kid," Callie said slowly, deliberately, "I know how to be an adult and not make simple things complicated."

"Things always get complicated; it's just the way life works."

"It's your call," Callie said, uncurling her hand and squeezing Arizona's. "Your call."

"Can we do this again, next week? Dinner and drinks, maybe a movie?"

"Yeah Arizona, we can do that."

Arizona smiled and breathed a sigh of relief; how had she come to crave time with Callie? How did that even happen?

She grasped Callie's fingers back.

* * *

With a joint poking out the side of her mouth, Callie arched her back, breath heavy and fast. She dropped a leg over the side of the lounge chair, knee resting against the coffee table and a tuning peg on the neck of her guitar pressing against the ligaments.

She pushed her hand inside her shirt, roughly squeezing her nipple between her thumb and index finger. It elicited a throaty moan.

Jeans and underwear gathered around the ankle of one leg, she increased her pace; opening her mouth wide and mumbling a series of expletives. The smouldering smoke dropped to her bare shoulder, marking her skin and extinguishing, before dropping to the floor.

She envisaged blond hair spilling over her thighs and blue eyes looking up at her as she came.

All imagination and no reality.

While Arizona was probably fucking Ms Anonymous; just so she wouldn't have to face her tomorrow.

* * *

Which Arizona did.

Up against a graffitied, grouted alleyway.

With a woman who couldn't have cared less when Arizona mumbled _Calliope_ under her breath.

But Arizona did; Arizona cared.

She had to stop.

* * *

**TBC…**


	7. Like Drawing Blood

**AN: **Thank you – loving all the reviews and feedback for this fic. Sorry about the delay in update, I'm trying to keep regular posts happening! Thanks. :-)

* * *

**Chapter Six: Like Drawing Blood**

_March 5__th__, 2014_

_Sometimes_

_Despite our best_

_Intentions_

_Our wounds bleed_

_Right there_

_In the open_

_For all_

_To see_

_Yet_

_To be_

_Understood_

_Is still_

_So far_

_Away_

Disorientated and arms flailing, Callie swung her legs off the edge of the sofa and fumbled to secure her feet to unoccupied ground. The pounding at the door continued, heavy and loud. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath, pushing her hair behind her ears and trying to tame the dry, messy strands that were apparently unable to be tamed.

Still dressed in her clothes from the night before, she secured the button of her jeans and repositioned them at her hips. "Alright!" she yelled at the closed door, one hand steadying her gait as she walked around the mess. "What?"

A young man coughed into his closed fist when Callie swung the door open, exhaling heavily. "Mornin'" he drooled, blond curls barely brushed out of his wide green eyes.

"Jesus," Callie said, angrily shaking her head, "you know what time it is? You should know better than bang on the door like a madman at this fucking hour."

"What? Almost midday?"

"What do you want?"

"You owe me? I've already given you time but I'm callin' it in or there's no more. We're not running a charity you know."

Callie scoffed. "You're not running an international ring either, I don't think a couple of hundred is really causing you an issue."

He averted his eyes, pushing his hands in and out of his pockets a few times. "Sort it."

"Yeah, alright, I told you didn't I? I'll give it to you Friday."

"That was last Friday and the Friday before that."

"Relax."

"Just pay it Callie," he insisted simply, not roughly but exasperated almost. "Or the offer still stands, it always does."

Callie snarled, a low growl escaping from deep in her throat. "Fuck you."

He shrugged and stepped inside, pushing Callie's arm away from where it leant against the frame, silently blocking his entrance. She shook her head calmly, forcing her expression to be annoyed rather than panicked. "Seriously?" she asked.

"Just settle it, I'm not picky, whatever you're up for. And then it's all good, I'll restock you."

Callie took in his expression briefly; he was hardly threatening, more opportunistic than anything else. And she had known him since high school, intimately in fact. Her eyes drifted down his chest, body slim and naturally muscular, even though it hadn't ever seen the inside of a gym. "What are you doing Corey?" she asked, hands now on her hips.

He shifted his weight slightly and she could easily make out the outline of his erection, his hand rubbed awkwardly over his jeans. Shrugging, he muttered, "It's nothing we haven't done before."

"Yeah," Callie laughed, irritated, "when we were sixteen. And you've been trying since."

"So?"

"You gotta give up watching porn."

"Mmmm, yeah, well, you never let me watch you so I gotta stick to those fake butchy dykes."

"Buy some new DVDs."

"Internet, you technophobe."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Can you get the fuck out of my house? Stop propositioning yourself or you'll never get your money."

"And you'll never get another supply."

"Yeah, 'cause you're the only one I know that can fix me up. Just get out, I'm starting to get pissed and you don't want to see me pissed. Trust me."

He held his ground momentarily, and Callie exhaled noisily through her nose. She had been putting up with this same scenario for years on end, and she was well and truly over it. Still, he insisted on trying and always with the same outcome. He'd probably run a mile if she ever agreed to it.

"Pay me," he finally muttered, taking a lengthy look at Callie's slightly askew top, cleavage exposed. "I'm not fucking with you now; pay me."

"Fuck off."

She slammed the door heavily the moment he stepped across the threshold and the walls shuddered at the impact.

* * *

"Hey Call," Arizona said softly, striding up behind Callie and rubbing at the centre of her back. Glaring eyes met her when Callie spun around and Arizona gave her a surprised look. "What's wrong?"

"You put money in my bag."

"Ooo," Arizona murmured involuntarily, whistling a little at Callie's clear dissatisfaction. "You keep _volunteering_ here, I wanted to pay you. And I knew that you wouldn't accept it."

"I won't accept it."

"Callie," Arizona said slowly, moving to place her open palm to her cheek before dropping it down to platonically hold Callie's arm. "Please, let me at least occasionally pay you for the work you do here. Or let me employ you or something."

"I don't want your money," Callie countered, a little irrationally annoyed. Already angered by her interaction with Corey, she had been more than surprised to find a wad of fifties in her bag just as she was about to head out for coffee at Arizona's café.

"Hey," Arizona said softly, lightly leading her back behind the counter and away from the view of a few quiet customers, "it's okay, please don't be insulted. I didn't mean to upset you, I just wanted you to know that I appreciate it so much and I really want you to keep helping out." Arizona paused, watching Callie soften only slightly in front of her. "Honestly, I really don't want to have to fire you because you won't accept payment." She grinned expectantly at Callie, who only scowled in response. "Come on, it isn't meant to be a drama. Let me make you a coffee, or you can indulge in my wine collection."

"You can't just put money in my bag."

"I can't?"

"No! Arizona, you can't just go around putting money in peoples' bags."

"I wanted to."

"It's a lot of cash."

"I just wanted to pay you, for all the time you help out, but I really didn't want to upset you."

Finally, Callie relaxed her shoulders, sighing heavily and hunching. "I'm in the worst fucking mood," she admitted. Despite an encouraging silence, she failed to elaborate.

"You're not going to say my name in that parental tone again?"

Callie raked a hand through her hair.

"You want to talk?" Arizona asked.

"Nuh," Callie muttered, short and sharp.

"Okay," Arizona accepted, dipping her head to try and meet Callie's eyes but they were fixed on the floor. "Anything I can do?"

"Nuh."

"How about you go hang out the back, and I'll come out soon…with coffee." Just the bare hint of a smile pulled at the corners of Callie's mouth and she nodded, Arizona tightening the grip on her arm as she went to turn. She tugged Callie in to a brief hug, and felt a shudder against her chest. Teary eyes blinked hastily as she stepped back. "Go on."

Quickly serving a customer, Arizona prepared Callie's coffee, contemplative with the care that she was feeling for Callie. The initial anger had taken her aback, such a stark contrast to Callie's usual calm and somewhat withdrawn demeanour. Intense wasn't a word that she would have used to describe her, but the range of emotions she had seen in just a couple of minutes from Callie, pushed at her in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

It would have been so easy to bed Callie, the night before; to accept her promises of casual and her indiscriminative advances. She could have so easily taken her home, led her into her apartment and tossed clothing items from one side of her apartment to the other.

So easily.

But then would Callie have shown up today, with her kaleidoscope of emotions? She may not have settled in to a long and complicated explanation or elaborated with more than a couple of single words and grunted syllables, but she had shown up.

And Arizona wants to know why. Not why she showed up, buy why tears filled her eyes with just the smallest of embraces; and why she was so insulted about a few hundred dollars for hours and hours of work. And why she was in the _worst fucking mood_.

Arizona wanted to listen and talk, to understand and make her feel even a tiny bit better.

She wanted to be Callie's friend; and she wanted to sleep with her. Not just once, but over and over.

Not that she was sure about what that meant.

And not for the first time, she wondered how that had possibly happened and why she wasn't completely overwhelmed by her feelings. Nothing about Callie and the way she was infiltrating Arizona's thoughts and emotions was making sense. But she couldn't deny the fact that she was actually okay with that.

Weird.

Blinking a couple of times, Arizona raised her head at the sound of her name being repeated, frothed milk held stationary in her right hand. "Can I fix this up?" the male asked, buttoned shirt tucked into his jeans, a wide belt exposed.

Arizona swallowed. "Just a minute," she said, finishing filling the disposable coffee cup for Callie. "I'll just take this out and I'll be back, you got my text?" she asked quietly, voice low and attention focussed on securing the lid.

"Yes, got it here."

"Okay," Arizona softly replied, quickly walking out the back and placing the cup down next to Callie. She wordlessly squeezed her shoulder before returning. "How was lunch?" she asked, finding him unmoved.

"Great, he said your food was good, but I'm impressed."

"You're not who he usually sends, where's B?"

"Had to go out of town for a while." Arizona nonchalantly nodded, tapping at buttons on the register. "Hey, Corey says your friend has a payment due."

Arizona glanced to her side, out towards the back where Callie was sitting silently on the step. She slowly drew her gaze back and looked towards the young guy still sitting at the table. "Yeah?"

"Small, but he's starting to get new jobs and wants to stay on the good side. I'm sure you know that's important, for your…friend."

Arizona bit at her tongue, accepting two bills and slipping a small envelope into her pocket, concealed between the notes. "How much?"

"You sorting?"

"As long as no one tells her, yeah; but open a mouth and there'll be issues."

He held his hands up. "I never get in the middle of that drama."

Arizona handed him some loose change and reached below the counter for a styrofoam container; she placed a blueberry muffin to one side and a rubber banded wad of notes on the other. "How much?" she asked again, reaching for an raw chocolate ball and slowly adding it in; to a casual observer, this customer was simply ordering a few extra items to go.

"Three."

Arizona raised her eyebrows. "Thousand?"

He scoffed. "Hundred; you've been living on Moet for too long, love."

"And he's worried about that? Tell him he'll never make it," she responded, smiling as she lifted the change compartment and added a few extra bills. "Mouth shut, remember. Make sure the kid knows."

"Thanks, though you should know he has a thing for her; but I'll see what I can do," he said, taking the container as he nodded and tipped it nose to the join. "Raspberry is my favourite," he murmured and Arizona rolled her eyes; her usual played a long a little more convincingly. And he at least kept track of what she placed. "One week?"

Arizona shook her head. "Nah, go three. I'm on a diet."

"The girl got you going soft?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"See you."

Arizona nodded and checked her watch, still an hour or two until she would close but the afternoon was quiet. Really quiet actually; and with only one customer reading a novel in the corner, she would much rather close early and sit out back with Callie. Tapping her fingers, she scanned the clean benches and tidied shelves; less than ten seconds later she was gently tapping the customer on the shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to shut up a little early today."

"Oh of course, sorry," the middle aged woman blushed and took off her glasses, shutting her book and fumbling for her handbag.

"No no, take your time. Finish your chapter, there's no rush."

"No, I'll get going. I probably should have left an hour ago, but I'm so enthralled. Let me just find my purse."

Arizona shook her head and again, gently swatted her shoulder. "Please, it's on me. For kicking you out early, I appreciate it."

She earned a wide grin in response. "You've made my day young lady."

It had to be at least ten years since Arizona had been called _young, _she laughed softly. "If only everyone was so easily pleased, thank you, again."

Arizona made sure the café was locked up and secured before she headed out back, everything in place as she would at the end of the day. Sitting herself down next to Callie, she leant back, and rummaged in her tight pocket. She held the small package in her open palm in front of Callie, who just raised her eyebrows. "New order, you want any?"

Hesitating only a moment, Callie shook her head. "No, thanks. I have to work tonight."

"At the bar?"

"Yeah. But you go ahead."

Shaking her head, Arizona stuffed it back in her pocket and made a mental note to put it away later. She probably shouldn't be walking around with a couple of grams of cocaine in her jeans. "How was the coffee?"

"Excellent, as always."

"You're too polite."

Callie flicked at her nails; it made an annoyingly distinct clicking sound. "Sorry I cracked it with you," she eventually murmured.

Arizona laughed lightly, turning her body to rest against the door frame, one foot tucked under her and the other resting two steps down. "Is that you _cracking_ it? If so, I better not ever fire up in front of you."

Weakly smiling, Callie rested back on her hands, cracking her neck. She was in an odd mood, irritated and frustrated, over it. Premenstrual like; and wanting nothing more than to tug her knees up and curl into Arizona's chest. "I admit, I'm a shit fighter."

"Everything's a bit shit today, right?"

"You trying to get me to talk?"

Arizona shrugged. "It's working well," she observed sarcastically, gentle but mocking.

"Sorry."

Resisting the desire to rant at Callie for continuing to apologise, Arizona settled on a patient silence; perhaps Callie needed another strategy when she was stressed. Arizona didn't tend to need space or silence; she just exploded and then moved on. Or she was meticulously strategic with lengthy plans and perfectly executed revenge tactics – if she was particularly screwed over.

So they sat; quietly.

A bird occasionally chirped, starting a chain of calls in the distance.

A stray cat darted across the car park, shifting stones and disappearing into the dark shade under stationary cars.

Laughter resonated from the Mexican restaurant a few doors down.

A domestic dispute brought a series of expletives on a wave of wind, from an apartment building a block behind them.

Still, Callie remained quiet, expression tense.

"You're killing me with quietness, Callie," Arizona said gently, having given her best shot at remaining hushed. "Let me help; what can I do? What can I do right now?"

Preoccupied now, with the thought of conforming into Arizona's body and being quietly held for even a few short minutes, Callie shrugged. She wanted the kind of no questions asked affection that she hadn't had in a while. She wanted to be hugged.

"More coffee? A massage? Need me to do an Irish jig?"

And finally a smile from Callie; an authentic smile. "You'd dance?"

Arizona nodded. "And trust me, that'd cheer anyone up. Except Michael Flatley…and come to think of it, any of the cast of Riverdance. They might cry."

Laughing finally, Callie shook her head. "There is something, maybe?"

"Name it."

"Feel like calling into the bar tonight? I'll hook you up with a stream of drinks if you keep me sane."

"Oh easy. Yeah, a huge struggle for me to come to a bar; of course I can."

"I would be grateful."

Arizona waved the comment away; she wasn't fazed in the least. "It'll save me drinking alone, so you're doing me a favour. So what can I do that will help keep you sane, though? Anything specific?"

Callie shook her head. "Make me laugh."

"Done. And if my verbal humour fails, I promise I'll dance for you."

"I really would like to see that, you know."

"All in good time. Are you sure you're okay?"

Shrugging, Callie slowly sighed. "I'm just grumpy really, a run in with a dickhead this morning and I just know tonight is going to be worse. My old band is in town, I'm just hoping they don't come to the bar after their gig, it was kind of our hangout years ago."

"Ohhhh, sorry. That is shit."

"I'm sure I'll survive."

"I'll make sure of it."

* * *

The unexpected benefit of the night for Callie, was that she was cold sober and Arizona became progressively inebriated as the evening progressed. Thanks to the constant refill of her wine glass; still, it was actually entertaining Callie. And, it was almost at the time where it was unlikely her old band mates would arrive and see her spectacular demise into working class, bargirl.

She was starting to relax and had earned some invaluable knowledge about Arizona.

Like, she had learned that Arizona had a thing for breasts and expensive lingerie; that she had once overdosed at a premiere and ended up in hospital for three days; and that she apparently had a real thing for threesomes.

_Or more_, Arizona had not so discretely whispered.

Asking Arizona to come to the bar had definitely had the desired outcome.

"I might have to cut you off soon," Callie teased, overfilling Arizona's glass and disposing of the empty bottle under the bar.

"But I'm your cheer squad tonight."

"And I'm your body guard, can't have you getting yourself into trouble."

Arizona gave a sheepish look. "I usually cause the trouble," she admitted.

As if on cue, they were interrupted suddenly by a stumbling woman, half falling against the bar and into Arizona. She held a wavering fist against Arizona cheek, who shoved her away, annoyed. "Get off me," she muttered, turning back to Callie who was indicating to their security staff, checking identification at the entrance.

"You _fucking slut_," she spat out at Arizona, mascara bleeding under her lower eyelids. "You revolting, _fucking cunt_ of a woman."

"Hey!" Callie intercepted now, keeping one hand on the girl's shirt that she just managed to grab a fistful of, and pulling her back from Arizona. A hand flew out and just caught the edge of Arizona's jaw and she looked away. "I will have you charged with assault," Callie threatened, protectively.

She continued to throw her hands out, just missing Arizona from lack of coordination and Callie persistent but awkward grip.

"You're going to be escorted off the premises," Callie said strongly, not the first time in her time working there that she had made the same promise. Not the first time by a long shot; but the first time she had felt the rush of adrenalin at seeing someone she cared about endangered.

"Yeah fuck off. I hope you check your gutters before you close up; see how many _fucks_ she's left lying around out there"

Arizona's expression neutralised in front of them, eyes fixed on the SKYY range; she closed her eyes in a prolonged blink.

"Settle down."

"There's a special place in hell for you," the woman bellowed roughly towards Arizona's dissociative form.

Rushed heavy feet forced their way through the crowd then, two towering security guards easily removing the woman from Callie's grasp and escorting her swiftly off the premises.

Callie rushed around, thumb grazing Arizona's jawline. "You okay? I'll get you some ice."

"No, no, I'm fine. It's fine."

Intoxicated enough to add the letter _d_ to the end of _fine_.

"Downside of casual, huh?" Callie rhetorically asked and Arizona stood. "Hey, you're not going anywhere."

"I'm just going to go, Callie, I'm sorry. I know I said I would stay."

"No, you're not," Callie stated strongly, and there was no room for arguing. "Another forty five and I'll take you home; you're not walking out of here without me."

"I'm fine."

_Fiiiiind._

"Yep, but you're still not stepping foot outside that door without me."

"I was meant to be here for you, not causing this kind of shit."

"It's okay, that's not exactly unusual for our clientele. I'm all good, everything's okay."

"Mmmm."

"Alright? You're waiting for me to finish, okay?"

"You were sad today," Arizona said suddenly, pulling Callie in to a tight embrace. "I like that you can be sad with me."

Arizona body was warm and heavy against Callie's, and Callie hesitated, shocked by the sudden and unexpected change in Arizona. She was more prepared for her to make a run for the exit. Slowly, Callie wrapped her arms around Arizona's shoulders.

She held her strongly back.

* * *

**TBC…**


	8. Let Her Go

**AN:** Hi! I'm so sorry, I know it's been forever between updates and thank you so much for the gentle (you really have been gentle!) encouragement and reminders that have been sent. It is motivating – it's particularly hard to get back into the swing of things after being unable to have time to write for a while. So thank you.

On another note, I hope you still have some idea what this fic is on about – it has been a while! All the same ratings and warnings exist – not even remotely in character, completely AU storyline and warnings for swearing, drug use and consensual sexual content. That should cover it. :-) Thanks again.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Let Her Go**

_March 6__th__ 2014_

_Might it be_

_Conceivable_

_That your song_

_Has yet_

_To be sung_

"How's the hangover?" Callie asked quietly, slinking behind the café counter and leaning heavily against the basin edge.

Arizona grinned as she turned, unable to keep the smile from falling as she swept her gaze from Callie's face and down her neck. A frayed and stretched scarf was wrapped twice around her neck, red marks and scratches exposed at the edges. "Callie," Arizona murmured, hand involuntarily reaching out between them.

It was swatted away. "It's nothing."

"Are you okay?" Arizona asked, hardly hearing Callie's rushed dismissal.

"It's just…" Callie muttered with a shrug, "nothing really. But I was wondering if I could ask you something."

Nodding quickly, Arizona's expression was urgent, as if intolerant of the nonchalant avoidant strategy Callie was going with.

"So I realise that I went all crazy yesterday about the money thing, but I was kind of hoping there might be a chance I could have a few hours work here. As in, actual work?"

"Have I not been trying to pay you?" Arizona asked and Callie gave her a pitiful expression, desperate for her irrational behaviour to be forgotten. She hated asking for favours or help, and even more, she hated being in a position where she couldn't take care of things herself. And right now, she had to admit that she wasn't _handling_ things. "Of course, really. Are you not getting enough hours at the bar?"

Callie exhaled. "Not really, not right now."

"And nothing with your music?"

"Look if you don't want me to, just say so, okay? I can't really take this shit right now."

Arizona softened a little, leaning back opposite Callie. Any hope of meeting her eyes and reading the unsaid was lost though, dark orbs fixated on the ground. Her instinct to fight wasn't always the best strategy, to assert her authority and take control; there were so many times that she wished her instinct was to nurture and not fiercely protect with fists figuratively raised. "I know what they do Callie," Arizona said softly, and when she actually concentrated on it, her voice could hold a soothing, almost lyrical feel to it, "when they think they have issues with payment." Not that it made exceptional sense to Arizona, the extra money she gave the day before should have been more than enough to cover Callie's debt. She could only assume it either hadn't reached the young newbie or someone was out to prove a point. The business so infrequently made sense.

"It really was nothing," Callie insisted again, "and I know you're just trying to…whatever, but it's fine. I just need to do a few extra hours this week and it'll all be fine."

"They do more than hassle, you and I both know that…" Arizona suggested gently and Callie swallowed.

"It was just a threat; a message." Callie conceded, sweeping her eyes across the room before loosening the scarf at her neck. Clear red finger marks exposed themselves and a few scratches; her neck would bruise nicely before healing.

"They didn't hurt you?" Arizona asked and Callie shook her head. "You sure?" she repeated.

Voice husky from contained emotion, Callie replied with a simple, "Yeah."

"Okay," Arizona continued after a heavy silence, squeezing Callie's wrist briefly. "Will you stay for a while? I'll make you coffee and something for lunch."

Shrugging, Callie said hesitantly, "I shouldn't."

"Please? Just chill out in the corner, I promise I won't lecture you."

Finally, Arizona earned a hint of a smile. For Callie, there was something that felt comfortable about being around Arizona; she didn't feel like she had to be so independent and capable. It was hard to comprehend though, how someone's mere presence could make her heart race with anticipation yet slow with calmness and safety. "I have to admit, I'm not that keen on going home."

Arizona nodded. "Then good, you can hang out with me for the rest of the afternoon. And, I have the best gluten free lasagne for you to try. Oh, and you like pumpkin, right? I just got this roast pumpkin and baby spinach salad in."

Smirking, Callie slowly gave an innocent, ambivalent expression. She would probably prefer a bowl of fries and ketchup but there wasn't a chance she was getting that. And the sweet potato oven baked thick cut British 'chips' that Arizona had on the menu were just not going to cut it. Maybe she would give her a brownie.

"Go sit," Arizona continued, again reaching out to touch Callie; the more she felt the warmth of her skin, the more she craved it. And it was successfully hiding the intense anger that Arizona had pulsing inside of her. How dare they not accept her settling Callie's debt.

She knew the young guys were just out to make a name for themselves, climb up the ladder and in many ways they were more dangerous than the men she ordered from. The older guys had a system, rules so to speak and they generally played by them.

Generally.

_Generally_, was the reason she was even there; running a café and not a television show. _Generally_, was the reason she wasn't going to let anyone mess with Callie.

Taking a few slow breaths, she meticulously went about heating up a large slice of lasagne and placing a generous helping of salad on the side of the plate. She focussed on controlling the clenching sensation in her gut, using the sound of frothing milk to quieten the tirade that was running around her head. It worked; somewhat.

By the time she placed the items in front of Callie, her dark hair was splayed over her face where she scribbled anxiously in a notebook; lyrics sporadically rushing from her fingertips. Amazing what fifteen minutes can achieve, finding that mysterious zone that only an artist understands.

Arizona respectfully retreated, earning just a nod and a long blink before she disappeared out the back of the café. She pulled her phone from her jeans pocket and anxiously paced, phrasing and rephrasing a number of text messages before finally sending it. She kept one eye on the storefront, returning a few times to take payments and to make one cappuccino to go. Until she finally received the response she was seeking.

_Consider it done; your girl is off limits._

Sinking against the wall, Arizona dropped her chin to her chest and slid down gradually. Her eyes welled with relief as she took in consecutive deep breaths and cupped her mouth, using her right hand to type a brief reply. _Thanks, double me up as a token of my gratitude._

She hadn't intended on inviting herself into a situation where she felt compelled to protect; to care so much that her reason for being in that town, was compromised. But she was there all the same, and she knew from past experience that she was ultimately powerless to stop it. Whether Callie was a purely platonic friend, or had the potential to be something more, it didn't really matter now. They were connected, by those invisible ties.

The ones that elicited thoughts and care, touch and affection.

The ones that provoked Arizona's shoulders to square and fists to clench in the air.

The ties that made her risk the very thing that gave her focus each day; that kept her grounded and on task. Only it wasn't the only thing anymore; Callie, completely unknowingly, was competing for her energy.

And Arizona was giving it to her.

* * *

By the time Arizona sat down in an adjacent chair next to Callie, hours had passed with barely a murmur from the somewhat dissociative Brunette. She had risen once for the bathroom, and muttered a husky 'thanks' when Arizona brought her a subsequent coffee and the brownie that she knew Callie loved.

"How are you doin'?" Arizona asked softly, placing two glasses of wine down in front of them. She allowed her eyes to drift briefly to Callie's neck, swallowing the anger it elicited in her. She felt a rush of sadness in its place.

"Good," Callie muttered, looking up and sitting back. She peered at the glass in confusion before wincing as she rolled her stiff shoulders and took in the closed up café. "Where did the afternoon go?"

Arizona shrugged and nodded to her notebook. "You've been very intense, not at all bothered by me working around you."

"Oh, did you need help?" Callie asked, face deadpan. It was taking her a few moments to reintegrate her body and mind, to come back to the present.

"No Callie, not even remotely." Arizona shifted on the chair, crossing her legs and sitting sideways, armed draped along the back. "I do have some good news."

"Mmmm?" Closing the ratty, scribbled in book, Callie secured it with a rubber band; a pen and several pieces of crumpled paper poked out. She left it on the table and took a sip of white wine.

"Well, I sorted your…ummm, problem. I guess."

"Huh?"

Reaching across, Arizona softly trailed her fingers along the underside of Callie's jaw; she froze on touch. "This won't happen again."

"What? How, I mean, what?"

"It's sorted."

"Arizona, I just had to pay them some money, which I can do this week."

Holding an index finger to Callie's lips, Arizona shook her head. "That's not quite how these people work, it's okay, you're just considered with me now."

Callie paused, that mere line made her feel sickeningly weak; powerless to the woman that she would do anything to kiss right then and there. And they were all of a few hand spaces apart; how insanely quickly the propulsion infiltrated her being. "I don't know what I should say."

"Nothing at all, it was a text message, honestly. Nothing."

"It's not actually…you're breaking the 'code'," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Don't ever take the fall for someone else, right?"

Arizona smiled, dropping her hand back to the table. "The code is bullshit."

They fell into a brief silence, drinking from their glasses and tracing patterns in the water marks left by the bases. Callie silently debated in her mind, as to whether to take the conversation where she desperately wanted to. There was still so much she didn't know about Arizona; that she didn't understand. It wasn't as if she needed to know everything about her; it was more that she wanted to find some way to match all the inconsistencies. The way Arizona could be so gentle and caring, protective; yet so damaged in how she separated sex and emotion. It was confusing.

"Can I ask you something?" Callie eventually whispered, voice uncertain.

"That's the second time you've asked me that today."

"Sorry."

"You can ask me anything, it just doesn't guarantee an answer. But don't be scared of me, I won't bite your head off. If I don't want to answer, I won't."

Callie paused, a slight smirk escaping her pressed lips. Arizona raised her eyebrows, expression light and inviting. "Well," she drew out and laughed awkwardly, wondering where her impulsivity and extraversion had escaped to. "I was wondering, kind of, if you could explain your whole casual thing to me. The casual sex thing, not you know, clothing."

Laughing, Arizona gave a perplexed look. "Ummm, are you looking for more than _sex is good_?"

As if invited, Callie spontaneously relaxed and shook her head, finger tapping deliberately on the table between them. "It doesn't make sense, Arizona. You're this clearly _nice_ person, who is gorgeous and successful and still, you what? Fuck around? I know that's not a nice way to put it, but am I right in that's what it is?"

Arizona dropped her gaze to her lap, eyelids hiding the clear blue that Callie found captivating. "Umm no, that's it. I suppose, no use in sugar coating it."

"Then, why? And look, I don't proclaim to be perfect in any way, and I am more than happy to disclose my completely screwed up relationship history."

"Does there have to be a why?" Arizona asked, and there was an acknowledgement on her face at she looked back up at Callie. "Maybe it's just who I am. That's how I was made."

"I don't believe that."

"It's not an issue, really," she loosely tried justify, "it's just me. As fucked up as that looks, well, maybe it is."

"You don't worry about things like that woman last night?"

Arizona shrugged and slowly shook her head. "It's not like I pretend to be anything else, I don't. I don't…do that…with people I…I just don't do that unless they're on the same page."

"Ever thought about making different choices?"

"Being a relationship person?" Arizona asked, smiling.

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I guess. What about you? Is there anything you wouldn't do for the right person?" she teased, and Callie laughed into her glass mid mouthful, coughing.

"I'm sure that's a line from something."

"Avoidant."

"Too true," Callie conceded, "but you know what they say, once burned…"

"Ah, nope. What do they say?"

"Oh shush," she responded quickly and Arizona dropped one hand from her wine to hold it innocently out to the side.

"Hey, I answered your question. Who's being evasive now?"

"Well, I tried," Callie admitted, shaking her head. "I did the mature, relationship thing and it all turned to absolute shit. So really, maybe you're on to it. Although I don't really do casual all so well, and my experience of relationships is all crap. And that, would leave me in limbo land."

"Women are all messed up, right?"

"Probably not just women, but I think you're right. Have I mentioned that my ex is in town?"

"What? No…you have had a shit day, haven't you?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Callie agreed, tipping her head slightly back and finishing her glass. "The old band is playing here, old as in, with my replacement. Nothing like losing it all, right? The woman I loved, as crazy as all crazy, as she turned out to be and, as if that's not enough. My career as well."

Arizona empathised, shaking her head and expression emanating disgust. She rubbed Callie's arm who just offered a pitiful though slightly bemused expression, she had moved on. With almost everything, except for her career. "You can still make music though, I saw you writing today. Full on."

Callie shrugged. "Yeah, weird how into it I was this afternoon. It feels like forever, wish I could get it all back happening again. Recording and touring, performing; it was pretty amazing."

"You could."

"Maybe."

"Whether you're in the same 'old' band or not, you're still a musician. Go solo or get involved in another one. You're hardly done."

"Just because it's the way it's always been doesn't mean it has to stay that way?"

Arizona nodded eagerly. "Yeah, exactly."

"You know, you can take your own advice." Callie grinned at Arizona's surprised expression.

"I walked right into that, huh?"

"Hmmmm, kind of."

Standing up, Arizona disappeared at the back of the café and the sound of keys jingling drifted to Callie where she waited quietly. She was hoping Arizona was returning with the wine bottle, instead, she heard her locking the rear door. Seconds later and Arizona was at Callie's side, squeezing her upper arm. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Callie asked, shoving her notebook into her usual satchel and stiffly rising to her feet. She involuntarily rubbed at her scarf covered neck.

"Your place."

"Sorry? Where going where?"

"To yours; you're going to demonstrate some of your music skills and I have the wine," she explained, glass clinking under her arm in evidence.

"Oh no, it's way too messy."

"We're past that kind of politeness."

"No, honestly Arizona, it is so past messy, it's not funny."

Arizona waved away Callie's concern, and gently pushed her out the front door, securing multiple locks behind her. "I so do messy."

* * *

With her feet hanging over the edge of Callie's cluttered sofa, Arizona's sock clad feet epitomised just how out of place she appeared with the Polo logo embroidered on the inside of each ankle.

Most surprisingly though, was that the image was in stark contrast to reality with both Callie and Arizona incredibly relaxed and sprawled out amongst the mildly and hastily cleared space.

They had been lazing around for hours.

Callie strummed haphazardly on her acoustic guitar, occasionally murmuring lyrics as she played around with endless verse constructions. Arizona encouraged her, enthusiastically at first before they shared another bottle of white and a number of paper wrapped joints.

The intensity just drifted off, until Arizona sporadically dozed, curled up on one end of the couch, pillow bunched under her head and hair splayed over Callie's thigh. She flicked her eyes occasionally, peering up at Callie and smiling, articulation sleep filled as she said what she liked and requested more. "Beautiful," she said, one eye open and Callie reached down to brush a blond curl across her forehead.

"You're an easy critic."

"I know what I like."

Callie smiled, though her expression was sombre. "Me too," she whispered.

Eyes drifting closed again, Arizona absorbed the soft caress of Callie's feather light touch across her forehead and through her hair. She was oblivious for almost ten minutes as Callie set her guitar against the arm of the chair and rhythmically calmed Arizona.

Without scrutiny, she watched Arizona, working her gaze from the tiny make up covered blemishes along her jaw line and down her neck where her pale skin earned the faintest red mark from the harsh edge of the cushion. She could only imagine the smoothness that would be under her lips, given the slightest of invitation and the suppleness she would find beneath Arizona's immaculate clothes. Arizona was every bit as _beautiful_ as she perceived Callie's music to be.

"That's so relaxing," Arizona murmured, eyes still closed and lips just barely edging apart.

Callie smiled down at her. "Good," she whispered in reply.

"You stopped playing."

"No, just turned my attention."

Playful; knowingly flirtatious.

"I like both."

"Good, I'm happy to provide both," Callie soothed, voice low and words drawn out.

Arizona sighed. "This is what I miss out on," she said after a moment, breath a little shorter and the muscles around her eyes tensing. She was working at keeping them closed.

"Yeah," Callie agreed, thumb trailing down her cheek and running the length of Arizona's lower lip. Her hand came to rest gently around her neck. "But shhhh, go back to sleep."

"I should go."

Still, she made no effort to move though her hand that was flaccid across her stomach curled into a weak fist.

"You can stay, if you like," Callie offered, feeling the rise and fall of Arizona's chest. She could sense an impending departure.

But for a minute, she thought that Arizona might just be considering it; silent, restful; unmoving.

And then Arizona sat up, legs swinging to the ground and coming to rest on an old plastic box of electrical leads. She slumped back against the couch and turned hazy eyes to Callie, she half smiled apologetically. "I should go."

Exhaling her disappointment, Callie closed her eyes in a long blink before forcing them open. She stared at Arizona, willing her to make a different decision; trying to figure out what might possibly trigger a different choice. Perhaps she was trying to trigger something that didn't exist, but everything about Arizona was telling her it wasn't hopeless. What she wanted wasn't lost.

And her lips were brushing against Arizona's before she could give it another conscious thought.

Slowly and tenderly kissing her.

Arizona stilled, indulging and innately granting Callie liberty to explore her lower lip.

Only then, did she gradually pull back, still close enough that Callie could feel the warmth of her breath as she spoke. "I can't stay."

Callie nodded. "I know," she sighed and she pressed a brief kiss to the edge of Arizona's mouth. "I know."

* * *

**TBC….**


	9. An Ode To Death

**Chapter Eight: An Ode To Death**

_April 1__st__ 2014_

_The thing about history_

_For me_

_Is that it is_

_Set on repeat_

_Unless I change_

_Maybe you_

_Are the catalyst_

_For my_

_Transformation_

As two hands pressed to her shoulders, pushing her back, Arizona had the overwhelming sensation that she should have ended her crap day with a bottle of wine and a sleeping pill rather than martinis and a peroxided blonde. Dull green eyes bore into her and she returned a quizzical look, fingers still probing beneath the stranger's skirt.

"I just need the bathroom," the woman murmured, pushing Arizona a little stronger until she stepped back.

Arizona gave an impatient and exasperated sigh, she wasn't there to wait. "You have to be kidding me," she said.

"I'll make it worth your while."

"You fucking better," Arizona muttered under her breath, though she contemplated just walking out the door. It quickly lost the appeal for her, when the momentum was interrupted or she had more than two seconds to think about the dysfunction in her habits; as Callie had slowly come to probe into over the past few weeks.

Callie, with her delicious full lips and gentle, respectful way had invited her over after watching Arizona's mood progressively deteriorate through the course of the day. She had promised wine and a massage, take out Chinese and space to talk; 'or not' as she had tagged on to the end.

And Arizona almost accepted the offer, except that she didn't. Almost wasn't good enough for Callie, and if Arizona could find a way out of this life she was in, she would. She would step straight out of it and into Callie's; because ninety nine percent of the time, there was no one else she would rather be around.

It was just the one percent where she felt powerless against the drive to fuck anything that looked good.

But then she was left standing in a dark, and if she was being honest, very unsavoury apartment, sobering impatiently. And time wasn't working in her favour as she took in the walls with holes and the bare mattress in front of her. And the suddenly blatantly identifiable, tourniquet and syringe packet on the floor next to the bed.

_Shit._

Arizona glanced at her watch and back around the room; she checked her watch again, having no idea how long she had been standing alone in the room. Stepping out, she felt her heart rate pick up, banging in her chest and she scraped at her neck with her fingernails. "Hey?" she called out, quietly at first before flicking on a light and raising her voice.

After repeating herself and banging on the bathroom door, she turned the scraped metal knob and kicked the door with her foot. A slumped body, half propped against the bathtub greeted her. "Fucking hell," Arizona swore, pulling her cell from her back pocket and pressing two fingers to the woman's carotid artery. The needle was still poking out of her arm.

And she had to use Google maps to even know where to direct the paramedics.

Her mind reeled; she had to direct the fucking ambulance to a dead woman as she pounded on her chest and tried to ignore the blue lips and pale skin. And the unmistakable sound of ribs cracking; the futility wasn't lost on her.

Arizona waited too, because she wasn't insane and she wasn't inhumane; this woman belonged to someone, somewhere. At some point anyway, everyone is born to someone. She answered what felt like a hundred questions, over and over; she had answered them all before. But no one knew that.

Time passed, circumstances changed. But the questions, they stayed the same.

She gave her name; her contact number. And then she slipped away as the tears welled and she stumbled down the stairs and then into a run.

Down the road.

Through an abandoned, rocky car park.

Over a short wire fence and across a grassed square, stumbling at the uneven ground.

Crouching in front of a garden, she coughed and spluttered, trying to dispel the stale alcohol in her gut and the memories from her mind. They all stayed put.

She looked up high, to where she knew Callie's apartment was and the light was on. A single lit up window, amongst the darkened shades. Arizona walked slowly up to her door, wiping under her eyes and smearing her mascara smudged fingers against her designer jeans.

Standing motionless at Callie's door, Arizona took a few deep breaths and turned the handle, fighting the urge to fold at the waist and shrink to the floor. Callie was half sitting and eyes wide at the sudden intrusion, falling back against the sofa cushions as she immediately recognised Arizona. "You scared the shit out of me," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead and sliding the guitar she had been strumming to the floor.

Arizona nodded and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her and twisting the lock that Callie hadn't bothered with. Her face was pale and eyes unfocussed; Callie's forehead slowly creased in concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked quickly, observing Arizona intently as she stepped over an amplifier and around the edge of the couch. "Arizona?"

Without stopping, Arizona placed one knee to the side of Callie's hips and captured her lips in a searing kiss as she straddled her waist. She moaned into Callie's mouth and fumbled her hands down, more urgent when Callie resisted.

"Are you okay?" Callie asked, turning her head to the side and cupping Arizona's glistening face with two hands. She was barely given an opportunity to focus before Arizona's fingers were beneath her waistband and inside the loose cotton panties she wore beneath sweats. Callie's mouth fell ajar and her breath caught. "You didn't want this," she pointed out quietly, and she was suddenly a mixture of concerned and aroused. Arizona avoided the comment with yet another impassioned kiss.

And it didn't surprise her in the least that Arizona's skilful hands pressed at her in all the right spots and with perfect pace and pressure. Her exploration of Arizona's intent slowed and lost fervour, her breathing became ragged and the pads of her fingers clawed at the small of Arizona's back, underneath the shear sleeveless shirt she wore. She kissed Arizona back until her mouth fell ajar and she couldn't focus, eyes squeezed shut as she panted her hasty climax against Arizona's ear.

Holding tight to Arizona's back, Callie swallowed and licked her lips. "Arizona?" she asked quietly as the blonde pressed her forehead into Callie's chest, blonde hair soft against her chin. They stayed that way for a few minutes, until Callie pressed a kiss to the top of Arizona's head and her fingertips started to slide deliberately down the back of her pants.

And then Arizona was stumbling to her feet and tears were gathered on her lashes; and she was shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she muttered, disorientated almost. "I have to go."

"Wait, where? Where are you going?"

Arizona was quick when she wanted to be, ninja like in how she was in the doorway before Callie was even on her feet. But she still heard the sob that Arizona tried to hide beneath the sound of the scraping door hinge. "Arizona!" Callie called, more urgent this time as the door slammed shut and Callie fumbled to slide an old pair of faded Converse on her bare feet. She was still straightening her pants as she grabbed her keys and ran after Arizona. She felt dazed and slightly uncomfortable with her swollen, post climax sensation between her legs. And she had no idea why she was chasing Arizona down the street and towards the Café at one in the morning.

Not that she hesitated to do it; it was all just a bit surreal. The dark clouds that eroded Arizona's usually placid and cheerful expression during the afternoon and the way she shied away from Callie's persistent requests to keep her company. At least her instincts were reasonable; she had just a slight nagging feeling in the back of her consciousness that these were Arizona's signs. The small indications that Arizona was likely to disappear into the night and seek out something or someone to fill the exposed void. She had been slowly coming to understand, to comprehend.

Not for a moment did she expect to be the one Arizona would seek though; not so blatantly at least.

But then her leaving; it didn't add up. And, she presumed that Arizona didn't usually run in tears from the women she pleasured. That wasn't even remotely how Arizona described her casual approach; it was brief but passionate and definitely mutually pleasing.

It was all a bit bizarre as they ran down the dimly lit street and around the corner, feet heavy on the side walk. Callie didn't consider herself a runner at the best of times, and she was fairly sure she was quite the amusing sight as she stumbled on her too long pants, hair wildly bouncing against her shoulders.

She was grateful to find Arizona unlocking the café door and stepping inside; if Arizona wanted to outrun her, she certainly could.

Following her in, Callie slowly bent at the waist and rested her hands on her knees, panting softly. "Let's not do anymore running," she said quickly, watching Arizona distractedly search on tables and benches, and under the serving counter. "If that's alright with you," she added, to which Arizona seemed to respond by chewing on her bottom lip. "I'm no expert," Callie pressed on, "but generally, when someone is upset and at a friend's house, they tend to talk. Not run. Especially after midnight. I mean, a nice easy few miles at eleven, sure…but after midnight…"

Callie only hoped that her sarcasm would be well received; she was pretty sure Arizona wasn't going to respond to the direct approach. She already hadn't responded, to the direct approach.

In fact, she had run from the _direct approach_.

Arizona eyed her distractedly, not really taking in Callie's words or the light intent behind them. Not that the Callie was making fun of the situation or not taking it seriously, the opposite in fact; she was concerned that she could upset Arizona further or elicit an angry or fleeing response. Arizona shook her head, eyes unfocussed. "I have absolutely nothing, I am completely out."

"Ummm, of?" Callie asked.

"What do you think?" Arizona retaliated, yet her voice wasn't malicious, just exhausted.

"Oh," Callie acknowledged, "right, of course. Well, I have some weed back home, you're welcome to whatever you like."

Raking her fingers through her tangled blond curls, Arizona shrugged and seemed to contemplate her next move by staring at the ceiling. "I might just go see if they're around, sometimes they're out at this time."

Callie offered a fleeting sceptical glance at her watch before nodding slowly. She thought that perhaps colluding gently with Arizona was a good strategy; the last thing she wanted was Arizona stomping off on her own. "You sure? I'm happy to come along it's just, well, it's late Arizona."

"What the hell else am I meant to do?"

Rubbing open palms over her face, Arizona squeezed tightly at the bridge of her nose and Callie took a few tentative steps towards her. "Just take a breath for a second."

"Please don't patronise me."

"I'm really not trying to," Callie explained softly and she received a slow nod in return. "And I'm also trying really hard not to fire questions and to completely smother you. Okay? You get that, right?"

"I do."

"Alright, so how's this for a plan? We go back to mine, or yours, whatever you're more okay with and we just sit or sleep and you don't go running into the night like some mad woman…"

Arizona swallowed, teeth clenching and lips pursing to desperately hold the tears that spontaneously welled, at bay.

"Yeah?" Callie asked.

"I don't know," Arizona said after a moment of awkward silence, "I'm really on edge."

Taking another few steps closer, Callie nodded; she stopped just over an arm length away. "Yep, totally get that; I really really don't want you doing something completely stupid though. And being like this and using, kind of a recipe for disaster."

Arizona's gaze dropped to the floor and she slowly nodded; for the very first time in a long time, she didn't feel in control. And she was meant to be all about control; she relied on it. She needed control, or all of this was for nothing.

"I'll take a guess that you're not that keen on me making the decision for you, but what if you give me a chance to be all trustworthy?"

"Trust you?" Arizona asked quietly, running her hand down her clothes and smoothing the creases. The resounding memory of ribs fracturing brought bile up her throat as her fingers followed the contours of her own ribcage. She clenched her fists.

Callie calmly smiled a small sympathetic half smirk. "Yeah hun, I'm good for it."

"Do you mind if we go to yours?"

"Sure, you don't want to go home?"

Arizona shook her head. "Not really."

"Doesn't bother me, you just have to tolerate the mess and share the couch with me. Although I have to say, I now have quite nice connotations with that sofa." Arizona blushed a shade of red, cheeks crimson as a gradual heat crept up her neck. "Other than how kind of crap and sad you look, anyway," Callie continued, holding an open palm out in between them.

Arizona looked at Callie's proffered hand and then up to meet her eyes for the first time. "I really don't want to talk about it."

Shrugging and nodding, Callie replied, "Okay, I'm just happy if you're in my line of sight really. But don't feel like you can't, if you want to."

Shaking her head, Arizona clenched her teeth and contemplated her next move. Despite the agitation in her body, her energy started to dissipate. It seemed to ooze out of her with each exhalation and her arm and leg muscles burned with the tenseness she had maintained for hours. "I don't want to," she repeated again, quieter this time.

Callie smiled warmly and wiggled her fingers, internally begging Arizona to take her hand, as if the connection would provide the security she was looking for. A guarantee that Arizona wasn't about to disappear into the dark streets in search of a score to numb whatever it was that was distressing her. "Got it," Callie insisted, and she thought for a moment that Arizona's expression was about to crumble.

It didn't.

She did drop her slightly sweaty palm into Callie's hand and entwined their fingers though, and a detectible sigh of relief fell uncensored from Callie's lips. "Okay," Arizona murmured and she knew her grip was tightening.

"Come on, let's go before we have to be back here in a few hours," Callie murmured, taking the keys from Arizona's other hand and leading her out the front door. They walked quietly and although Arizona's shoulders were square and posture composed, she kept close to Callie so their arms grazed with each alternate step. In the darkness at her front door, Callie released their grip and fumbled briefly with her keys before giving the door a swift kick and the lock gave way. She offered Arizona a guilty look before firmly pushing at her lower back to encourage her inside.

"I'll just grab you something comfortable to sleep in and a spare toothbrush," Callie insisted and Arizona nodded silently; Callie didn't mention that she had bought the toothbrush weeks ago, hoping specifically that Arizona would be the one to need it. Not under the present circumstances though. "Bathroom," she said, pointing across the room and holding out a folded oversized tee-shirt, "and help yourself to anything else you need."

She waited for Arizona to close the door behind her before scurrying to clear as much room as she could on the sofa. Her ability to accumulate endless piles of crap was beyond comprehension, all of it needed of course. At one time or another. Bundling as much as she could, she wrapped it in a sheet and stuffed it under her desk in the music room, on top of a pile of old cables and an unstrung old bass guitar. She hoisted the amplifier into the door and her eyes grazed over the recording equipment, knowing she had to pull it all out and connect it at some point, to start actually getting some of her more recent work out of her head and in an audio file.

For the moment however, she had a pseudo bed to create and she supposed it should make her wish for a nice basic two bedroom apartment with a Queen sized bed and crisp sheets. Maybe even with bedside lamps and an organised walk in robe; still she knew better than anyone that those things didn't bring happiness.

More agile sex perhaps…with decent mood lighting.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she was halfway through spreading a likely clean quilt over the entire sofa and tossing the back cushions aside to create a wider sleeping space. She added a pillow, complete with replaced cover up one end and stepped around the coffee table. It was nice for her feet to land on carpet rather than mystery objects of various importance. "You need anything?" she asked and Arizona shook her head.

"I'll just grab myself a water, is that okay?"

"Of course, go for it. Just relax and I'll be out in a sec," Callie replied, using the bathroom and brushing her teeth before returning to find Arizona curled up on her side on the couch. She shivered slightly in the cool air and her bare legs, briefs just covered by the tee-shirt, were covered in tiny goose bumps. Callie draped a blanket over her and sat on the edge of the seat, open palm resting on Arizona's hip. "Okay?" she asked gently, so aware that Arizona had barely murmured more than a couple of words since stepping through her door an hour before. Callie rubbed at her side and raised her eyebrows, again, watching Arizona's blue irises glaze with tears. Despite her worry, she earned a barely detectible nod from Arizona and watched her pale lips press together. "Can I," Callie swallowed and gave an uncertain expression, "lie behind you?"

"Please."

Callie almost tumbled over Arizona in response to her pleading tone; she melted at the vulnerability forming through her cracks in composure. "Good," Callie murmured into her ear as she slid into the tight space and emulated Arizona's position, curling into her back and behind her legs. She smoothed Arizona's hair against her neck and pulled the blanket high over her shoulder before settling into the pillow.

With a slight shudder, Arizona closed her eyes and pressed herself back, closer into Callie's warmth. A tear dripped unnoticed over the bridge of her nose and across her temple before being absorbed by the pillow material.

Slowly, Callie draped an arm over Arizona's chest and rested it comfortably, heavy and secure. "Thanks," Arizona whispered through wet lips and Callie smiled behind her.

She pressed a tender kiss between her shoulder blades and nuzzled Arizona with the tip of her nose. "_I got ya_."

* * *

TBC…


End file.
